In Shadows and Darkness

Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

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The Patriot was stocking up for its fifth trip to who-knew-where by the time Han finally made it onboard. He had a sneaky suspicion that there were three of them altogether who'd been given fake ID's and buried in the Duty Roster, but he wasn't sure- for obvious reasons, none of those sent knew about anyone else.

The fates had been with them though; there was a rash of inter-fleet personnel transfers every time the Patriot reappeared in the Core Systems, which had made it that much easier to get onboard with the crew rotations- and that much more worrying as to what was going on to cause them.

That was the great thing about Super Star Destroyers though, Han reflected as the crew shuttle set down in the Patriot's sprawling main hold; they were massive ships, extensively manned, and if you were going to smuggle a few short-term spies into the Fleet then this was where you did it. Which was just as well, because no-one seemed to have a clue as to where the Patriot disappeared to for three weeks in every four as she had done since her launch, and everyone was getting real jittery.

It had taken the best part of a week to persuade Massa to let him use one of the fake ID's, then almost the same to get Leia to okay it- sometimes having your other half be the leader of the Rebellion could seriously cramp your operating style. In the end, his questionable credentials as an ex-Imperial Officer - all be it dishonourably discharged - had given him the edge in that he knew operating procedures onboard a Destroyer.

That was what he'd claimed anyway- it was a long time ago and he'd not really paid much attention at the time.

But surprisingly it was all coming back to him with unnerving clarity now he was here, making the nine-day wait at the Shipyards in the Farlax Sector and the trip up to the Patriot a breeze. Now all he had to do was stay undercover long enough to see Luke; watch him operate here, watch him interact. That wasn't his mission of course - his remit was to lay a series of in-system bugs for information-gathering, but he figured anyone could do that. Han was the only one who could read the kid with any real sense of familiarity and prior knowledge to base his judgement on - and any genuinely impartial bias, as far as he was concerned.

And since the launch of the Patriot - hell, since the kid had let him go with the Falcon - he'd been desperate to know just what was going on in Luke's head. What was in his mind when he'd foiled an attempt on Palpatine's life then just turned straight around and saved Leia's?

He told himself that this was for the Alliance - that it was vital information, whether they knew it or not - but some niggling little voice kept on asking if the truth was that he just wanted to see Luke; wanted to look him in the eye and... what?

He had no idea. Maybe he just wanted to look the kid in the eye - maybe that was all he needed.

Or maybe that was the last thing he needed; admittedly their last meeting hadn't exactly been genial. It had raised more questions than it answered, none of them good, but Han was more optimistic this time. Clearly the trick was not to get caught on the back foot with Luke; make sure you're the one in control. To do that it would be smart to keep out of his way, keep your distance, keep hidden- just watch and learn, wait as long as it takes for the right chance to come along.

Yeah, that made sense.

Nodding to himself as he stepped off the ramp of the crew shuttle into the cavernous, echoing bluster of the Patriot's busy main hangar, troops and supplies being delivered and stored in equally impressive measure, Han glanced about, feeling stiff and starched in his fitted Petty Officer's uniform.

Stretching his neck as he ran his finger under the edge of his high collar, he nodded reassuringly to himself; this was easy. All he had to do now was get through inauguration and he was laughing...

They all stood in a straight line in the crew hangar close to the Officer's quarters. Han had been assigned a room - even had a window - given his clearance codes without problems and was now listening- kinda- to a Personnel Officer drone on about protocols and mealtimes and shift hours. Basically all the things that Han had been drummed out of the Fleet for ignoring first time around. That and the whole Chewie thing...

Han raised his eyebrows and effected a slight shrug; oh well- their loss, not his. He glanced back to the Officer, realising that he hadn't listened to a word so far-

"...several rules above and beyond the norm, associated with the fact that The Heir is generally onboard."

Han pricked his ears up at this, finally interested, as the Officer droned on.

"Although it's unlikely that any of you will meet him in your day to day duties, there are certain protocols established in case you do. You will stick to them as if your life depends on it, because if I find out that an officer under my command had breached them, then I will personally strip his ass back down to Private- are we all clear?"

Nice man- good social skills. Han reflected dryly, remembering afresh why he hated the military.

"These are the rules; take notes." The burly man walked slowly down the length of the line, "Firstly, you will refer to him when speaking to others in the third party. The Commander's own non-military Aides who are on-board will refer to him by his civilian title, which is 'The Heir'. You will not. Onboard ship, or whenever you are wearing a Fleet uniform, you will refer to him by his military title, which is Commander-in Chief; in the unlikely event that you find yourself in his presence, you will remember that he prefers simply 'Commander'. When you have referred to him once as such, you will then subsequently acknowledge him as Sir. You will do this every time you meet him; Commander then Sir. You will not try to engage him in smalltalk; he does not appreciate it. You will not go closer than four paces unless he looks to you and nods his head in permission. Even if you have to give him something you will stand and wait until he nods his head to allow you closer. If he enters a room in which you are present, you will bow smartly from the neck and bring your heels together military-style. You will practice this so that it is not sloppy when you finally have to do it. If you are in a room and the Commander is there, you may not leave without his order or his dismissal. If you need to walk away from him, you will bow and back up four paces, then and bring your heels together before you turn away. If I see anyone turn their back on him within four paces I will have you doing nightshifts on a garbage hauler for the rest of your career. You will not stand behind him closer that those magic four paces- if he turns his back on you, you will back up, as before. You will not sit in his presence unless explicitly invited to do so, which I very much doubt. You will not eat in his presence unless invited. You will not stare. You will not make conversation with civilian members of his entourage; you will remember that aside from Fleet issues, they outrank you and you will refer to them by their rank or title. You will learn their ranks and titles. You will not ask for an introduction to the Commander- it will not further you career; they have invested many years in getting to where they are now and believe me, they'll be damned if they'll help any of you replace them."

Han was starting to tune out at this point, partly as a reflex action, but partly because it was beginning to occur to him for the first time just who he was trying to get close to. Up until now, he'd just been trying to get to Luke; suddenly, in his world for the very first time, he was realising just how much had changed; he was no longer trying to steal a few minutes with that hyper kid from Tatooine, who happened to be onboard a Star Destroyer- he was trying to get to the Heir to the Imperial Throne. Someone who lived that life- this life- all bows and Sir's and entourages. Nobody stare, don't get too close; don't even think about trying to start a conversation...

It finally hit him that Luke Skywalker might not even exist anymore- not the Luke Skywalker Han knew. Five years... that was a hell of a long time to live this life, surrounded by people like this, who just kept on shoehorning you into it 'cos it was protocol, completely removed from everything normal and conventional.

It was also beginning to dawn that the kid wasn't a kid anymore; he was the Commander in Chief of the Core Fleet and next in line to rule an Empire, inaccessible and isolated.

Was it by choice or by influence?

The Personnel Officer paused to answer his comm and Han realised that once again he hadn't heard a word he'd been saying; probably wasn't important...

Signing off, the man glanced up again, glowering at the row of new Officers, "... so look upon this as your one opportunity to shine - in front of me, not the Commander. I guarantee you that he doesn't even know you exist. As far as I'm concerned, what you do from now on reflects on me, and so decides what you do here for the next twelve months, which decides the rest of your career. Don't screw up."

Han raised his eyebrows without speaking; maybe it had been important...

Seconds later, the bay's pressure door slid open and a Petty Officer sounded a triple-tone on his whistle.

"Commander on deck!" The mouthy Officer shouted with military precision as he came to smart attention, everyone straightening, heels clicking in unison-

And Luke walked in, hands behind his back, a neutral, unreadable expression on his scarred face.

He was impeccably dressed in a smart, almost military uniform in dark blue-gray, a small group of senior Officers and Aides trailing behind him- none any closer than the regulation four paces, Han noticed wryly.

He looked... different to Han- older. Which was stupid 'cos he was older, but... somehow Han had never quite reconciled the shadow-shrouded man in the Fury's detention level with - well, with Luke; with the kid. He'd just, over time, mentally replaced that image from the Fury with the one of Luke that he already knew; the real Luke. And the holo's which came in all the time from Intel well, they weren't really Luke either- not really. They were some other guy; The Heir, the enemy; whatever. Not Luke.

And now here he was again, that strange shadow-Luke. But in the plain light of day.

He seemed taller, broader; all grown up. His hair was long and unruly though, falling to loose twists almost on his shoulders- and dark, making his skin seem paler... making that scar seem deeper.

From well above his eye it sliced down his cheek, through both lips and onto his chin- that was one hell of a scar. Why did he still have it?

But then, who was Han to talk- he still had a scar on his chin from long ago. Had purposely kept it as a memory; a reminder of a lesson hard learned. Han looked afresh at the heavy scar... wondered what other scars the kid held.

Luke motioned with gloved hand for the group around him to stop and wandered slowly along the line, indifferently inspecting the new drafts...

Han's mind was racing as Luke drew ever closer; well this was a bolt from the blue- who'd have thought The Heir to the Empire routinely wandered below decks to check the new Petty Officers? He vaguely remembered confidently figuring that all he had to do was make sure he didn't get caught on the back foot again by Luke and everything would be fine - apparently that plan was already out the airlock.

If he was a smarter man, he'd probably be sweating by now.

Luke walked at a leisurely pace down the row of newcomers, already aware that Han was at the far end of the line-up but taking his time. He'd developed a habit of coming down here each time a new batch were brought onboard, knowing that eventually Han would be among them. Argot had warned weeks ago him that Solo may soon be onboard, one of five spies, four of which were already tagged. This fifth Luke would look out for himself; private business.

So he'd taken to the habit of coming down here on the pretext of a personal inspection every now and again so that when he finally needed to, it wouldn't seem out of place.

He slowed to a stop before Han, who looked slightly green, Luke eyeing him up and down in silence, though Han kept his eyes dead ahead.

"And you are?" Luke prompted finally.

"Lieutenant Solin, Sir." Han saluted smartly then hesitated; was he supposed to bow? Was that supposed to come before the salute? The Officer coughed sharply and Han belatedly realised he'd also used the wrong title, "Commander!" he corrected quickly.

Luke continued to stare as if he hadn't noticed, narrowing his eyes in contemplation, hesitating for an uncomfortably long time before finally speaking. "Don't I know you?"

"No, Sir, I don't believe we've met."

"Oh, I'm sure we have." Luke corrected quickly, "Very sure."

Again Luke left a long silence as he stared at Han, who shifted uncomfortably, partly at the rocky situation and partly in trepidation, which wasn't Solo's style, Luke reflected. Maybe he was realising that the changes in his old friend were something more than skin deep. Luke narrowed his eyes, letting the moment hang...letting Solo sweat a little for being as reckless and as rash as to think he could get away with this...

Then he cut him a break. "It was... at the opening of a gallery on Coruscant. We spoke about a piece of art... 'Night Battle' by Inego, I think it was."

Han let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding. "Yes Sir, I think you're right. I still have... a copy."

"Really? I thought you'd have sold it by now."

"No, Sir. It has sentimental value."

"I think you overestimate it." Luke said with dismissive finality. "I find I've lost my taste for Inego's work as time has passed. He was always so naïve- trying to paint pictures which didn't exist in reality anymore."

"See, that's what I like about the picture- every time I see it, it's like visiting an old friend."

Luke smiled at that; Solo hadn't lost his sharp mind- though it was wasted if he thought he could change anything here... or return to the past. "Perhaps it's time to move on. I have."

"Thank you Sir but I think I'll keep it... the uh, the artist may not be in favour where I come from, but that doesn't change my own view of him."

"Perhaps popular opinion is right."

"They don't know him like I do." Han said firmly. "Everybody's passing judgement on someone they never met."

"Did. Inego is dead, Petty Officer Solin."

"Maybe..." Han began- But Luke cut him off, voice decisive.

"Oh trust me; he's gone. One cannot come back from the dead."

Han paused for a long time before making one last effort. "That's a pity, Sir. I always thought we had a lot in common."

Luke stepped back, purposely dismissive, bringing the conversation to an abrupt end as he turned about. "You should take care it's not your demise, Petty Officer Solin."

He walked coolly away before Han could speak further, leaving him to lean out slightly to gaze down the row of Officers at Luke's receding back as he left the bay, every Petty Officer in the line-up staring first at The Heir then, when the bay doors finally closed, turning about in unison to look at Han.

Han straightened up again, letting out a slow breath; Now he was sweating.

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Han was wandering nonchalantly down the main corridor on the Navigation Level, trying to look like he was sufficiently bored to be on official business, a borrowed automemo tucked under one arm- always handy to pull out and pretend to read when travelling in turbolifts and someone looked like they might try to engage him in conversation.

No more had been mentioned about the uneasy meeting, aside from the Personnel Officer, who'd given Han ten minutes of grief then suddenly changed his mind and decided that it might just be in his interest to suck up to the new Petty Officer who apparently went to the same art galleries as The Heir, and had consequently given Han an easy ride for the next few days. Which never hurt.

They'd gone into hyperspace the first night and no-one in the assorted messes and common rooms seemed to know where, so when the Patriot made a short drop into realspace, offering a chance to gain co-ordinates, Han had decided to go straight to the source and try a little trip to Navigation.

Now he just had to pick a room- there were about thirty so far in the Navigation section; way more than the last time he remembered being on a Star Destroyer, but then he'd never actually been on a Super Star Destroyer- He smiled a lopsided smirk at that; actually it wasn't true; he'd been taken to Coruscant onboard the SSD Executor with Luke... they just hadn't seen much of it.

And now the kid from Tatooine owned one of them... had been given it by Palpatine himself. Funny how the galaxy turned...

Han finally chose a room at random and wandered in, looking busily down at his automemo screen as the door slid shut behind him. He risked a quick glance up, but there were only four men in the long, deep room, none of whom were looking. The nearest was stood before a screen of what looked like it might be useful info, so Han walked up casually, glancing back to the automemo as if reading it.

"Hey, I'm looking for Lieutenant Antilles?" Han picked the name of Rogue Group's Flight Commander at random.

"Antilles?" The non-com shook his head, "No- not here."

Han raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, "Doesn't work this shift?"

"Doesn't work any shift, Sir- not in here."

"Great." Han feigned frustration, glancing about, "Does anyone know him?"

The man finally turned away to the others, giving Han an unguarded look at that screen. "Anyone know a Lieutenant Antilles?"

As the non-com's spoke, the door behind Han whispered open and he heard light footsteps. Turning casually, he recognised the man immediately; he'd taken the time to shoehorn all the leading players in the Patriot into his head before he'd set off but even without that, Commander Wez Reece was a well known figure around Skywalker these days, having risen from something between a bodyguard and an Aide to Adjutant-General of The Heir's household.

Han glanced away immediately, looking back to his automemo, and the man walked by without a second glance, heading to the input console at the far side of the room, all the non-com's immediately trying to look busy.

Han stared at the automemo in his hand until the backlit screen burned into his vision, wondering how soon he could retreat without drawing attention to himself...

Finally he looked up to the man beside him, "Ya know what, I think I need to check that name. Don't worry about..."

Wez Reece glanced back then away... then, as if changing his mind, he looked up again; "Can I help you, Lieutenant?"

Uh-oh. "No thank-you sir. I'm just trying to track someone down- it's not a..."

"Who?"

"Oh..." Han stared again at his automemo; well this wasn't going well... "Lieutenant Antilles. It's not a problem; I'll just..."

Reece stepped around the console, heading toward Han.

"Lieutenant Antilles is in System Analysis." He drew level, head set slightly to one side, "Let me take you- I'm passing right by it."

Han stared for long seconds at the big, bulky man...

"Thanks." He said at last, and fell into step behind him as he headed for the door - what else could he do?

They walked in silence down the long, gray corridor, Han wondering firstly what the hell was going on, secondly, who this Lieutenant Antilles was - what were the chances of there really being someone with that name onboard - and lastly, more realistically, if he could take Wez Reece down and get off the Destroyer before they caught up with him.

He slowed as they reached Systems Analysis, but the tall man kept walking, so Han stopped, pointing at the door, which slid open, "Uuuhh?"

"This way please, Lieutenant." Reece turned away and continued, leaving Han to stare after him.

See, now this really isn't good. Han reflected, glancing momentarily inside before stepping away and continuing behind Reece.

They walked in silence to the turbolifts and travelled in silence to who-knew-where. By now, Han fully expecting to come out into a room full of stormtroopers- or maybe the Detention Level; just cut out all that chasing around and take him straight there then arrest him.

He leaned back against the wall, feeling the reassuring push of the small holdout blaster he wore concealed beneath his jacket at the small of his back. His expert eye had already clocked that Reece's expensive, perfectly tailored clothes couldn't quite conceal the blaster he wore in a shoulder-holster beneath his own jacket- and he was pretty sure the guy also wore a vibroblade or something at the small of his back. He stood like a soldier too, back straight, shoulders just slightly tensed, expecting trouble. He turned to glance at Han, who tried an easy smile; it wasn't returned.

When the doors opened onto a quiet, wide corridor Reece stepped out without another word leaving Han to stare at his back, the smile quickly falling from his face then just as quickly reforming as the burly man turned slightly.

"This way please." Reece prompted, setting forward.

"And what exactly is that way?" Han said before stepping warily out, unable to keep the edge from his voice now.

But the man was already walking off, so after another brief pause Han followed, glancing up and down the spacious corridor, open to a long row of large viewpanes along one wall with an uninterrupted view of the Super Star Destroyer's impressive bulk laid out beneath it like a cityscape, the pale light of a distant star casting wan shadows across its bow. Han glanced again to the big man ahead of him, hand slipping to the small of his back as he walked, casually trying to ease the fitted Imperial uniform away from the his blaster; he probably wouldn't get a better opportunity than this...

They finally stopped at a door, the only one in the deserted corridor aside from its opposite end.

"It's uhhh... pretty quiet round here." Han tried, mentally calculating that he was close enough now that if he swung for the big guy with the automemo he was carrying, he may buy enough time to get his damn blaster free...

"Yes." The tall man turned to him without emotion, making Han freeze.

He knocked lightly on the door then pressed the release, and Han glanced inside, bracing himself, hand going automatically to his concealed blaster -

But the room seemed empty. Living accommodation, large and dark, luxuriously appointed with heavy, tastefully refined furniture. He looked back at his guide, who gestured inside with a small motion of his head. After another quick check down the corridor Han entered the low-lit room, glancing about, his attention taken momentarily by that same spectacular view as the empty corridor. The door slid shut behind him and Han turned, realizing the tall man hadn't entered...

Stood to one side of the large room, his dark clothes making him melt into the shadows, was Luke.

He remained still for a long time, just looking at Han, leaving him uneasy beneath that intense gaze. When Luke finally spoke his tone was no less unsettling, a strange mix of wryly amused and completely emotionless, his real accent completely buried beneath perfectly-modulated Coruscanti.

"You know, we always seem to meet onboard Star Destroyers."

It took long seconds for Han to find a comeback. "Yeah, but in my defence you seem to spend an awful lot of time onboard 'em these days."

"So do you," Luke countered easily, "Considering your allegiance." His tone was light and non-confrontational, yet there was something undefinable in his manner that was anything but. Han tensed, freshly wary.

"Are you gonna... put me out again?"

"Are you intending pointing that holdout blaster at me? The one under your jacket." Luke added, as Han took a breath to voice denial.

He paused, "Oh that one- that's just for luck."

"It doesn't seem to be working very well."

"I dunno- it got me what I came here for... a chance to see you."

"You put your Alliance to an awful lot of expense just to speak to me."

"Well ya know, they wanted a few other stuff as well... like where you keep disappearing to. Wouldn't care to enlighten me would you?"

Luke remained silent, still shrouded in the shadows, neither offended nor compliant.

"Operating parameters for the DEMP maybe?" Han said, "Upgraded shield system? ....no?"

Luke remained mute for long moments, impassive, unmoving. When he finally spoke, his voice was calmly resigned, all emotion hidden beneath that formal accent, strange coming from his mouth. "Is that what you came all this way to ask me?"

"No... well yeah, but I didn't think you'd answer that stuff."

"What did you come her for, then?"

"I guess.... I came to see you - see if you're okay."

"You left it a long time to ask."

There was no trace of emotion in his neutral voice, neither accusation or judgement, but Han felt a crushing pang of guilt all the same. He glanced away, deeply uneasy, feeling the need to fill the stifling silence. " 'Course, why wouldn't you be- I mean, you have your own Star Destroyer now. Super Star Destroyer. Two in fact.... well, a fleet I guess, really. And, you know... that whole Heir to the Empire thing." He shrugged again uncomfortably, "But that's all just... stuff, isn't it?"

"Mostly. A few of them I need."

Luke stepped from the shadows, that unsettling aura still about him, everything locked up tight, nothing readable to Solo despite their years of close friendship. Han shifted uneasily beneath that unsettling gaze-

Then leaned in, noticing for the first time the dark flash in the kid's right eye. He knew of course about the deep, twisted scar - knew where it had come from - but this wasn't described in any of the documents he'd seen. "What did you do to your eye?"

"Someone tried to blow me up." Luke said mildly, "I thought you might have heard, given your interest in my wellbeing."

Luke watched Han's uneasy silence for several seconds before he relented, unable to stay angry at the Corellian, if he ever really had been in the first place. He shouldn't have come here but then Luke shouldn't have let him - could have stopped him at any stage.

He turned away, stepping to the console to pour two drinks, more to break the moment than anything else. To give Han as well as himself a few seconds grace, not wishing to hold him responsible for others' actions.

He wouldn't let them come between himself and the last real friend Luke Skywalker had. The very last to remember who Luke Skywalker was- because he couldn't remember himself anymore. To know that there was someone out there who still saw that unrealistic, painfully naive idealist when they looked into his face was strangely reassuring.

"So where's Chewie?"

Luke turned and walked forward to sit in a chair, his back to that impressive view, Han following and sitting opposite him. It was a long time since anyone had just sat down in Luke's presence without express permission, and the casual informality of it felt reassuringly reminiscent of simpler times.

"I woulda' brought him, but strangely we couldn't make him look convincing in an Officer's uniform." Han said glibly.

Luke smiled, allowing himself to fall easily into that mindset again, just for a moment. "You could've shaved him."

"Yeah, but I kinda like my arms attached to my body."

Han was aware that the kid had consciously dropped his accent to a more familiar, provincial drawl- not quite what it had been though; he probably didn't remember anymore; hadn't heard anything but high-class for six years. "He moults enough anyway, I already find his hairs all over the Falcon..."

He stopped, unsure whether he should mention this.

Luke only twitched his eyebrows in a casual shrug, looking away. "It was no good to me - and I believe you're the one who owns the registration documents."

"Actually Lando still has them- he could never quite bring himself to let 'em go. I have a bunch of others for it though- all legal of course."

"Of course."

The two stared for a long time, each taking the measure of the other. Han hadn't changed at all, Luke knew. He was still the brash, self-assured pilot who'd demanded ten thousand credits for the hop from Tatooine to Alderaan eight years ago... was it only that? It seemed another lifetime... another life.

Han studied Luke as the kid studied him... he still looked so young. Just a kid, trying to find a path through some serious pudu and keep sane at the same time. Who was Han to judge that- he didn't exactly have an impeachable record himself.

But the truth was that Luke wasn't the same - and now, sat before him, Han couldn't believe he'd been stubborn enough to try to convince himself otherwise. He could see it in the kids eyes, could feel it in the air, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, like hearing a noise in the dark; like feeling a storm front close in.

He looked again at the deep, jagged scar which marked the kid's cheek, from above his dark-cast eye clean down through his lips; noticed another on his neck half-hidden by the high collar of that impeccably-cut shirt.

The kid had changed - had to change to survive - Han had seen plenty like that in his profession; it was nothing new. People who'd had it bad and did what they had to just to survive but somehow, somewhere along the way, gradually and without even realising it, they lost some vital part of themselves. You could always tell them because they had that same neutral, dispassionate look in their eye as Luke had right now. As if nothing touched them anymore- nothing even came close.

But he hadn't known any that made those hairs on the back of his neck prickle before.

"I'd like to thank you for that whole Bothawuii thing." Han said at last, "With the Falcon and all- they thought I was a spy for a while."

"Yes, they're quick to point the finger." Luke said then, as if correcting himself, "The Bothawuii thing?"

"I'd been trying to get Mon to move the venue of the meet fro weeks, then not only do you show up, but I get the Falcon back."

"Ah." Luke smiled tightly, "I could contact them if you like- put a good word in for you."

"Would'ja?" Han deadpanned, " 'Cos I'm sure that would work."

They both smiled then looked down uneasily. Luke waited the subsequent silence out, knowing what the next question would be. It took Han along time to say it, but he found the courage in the end, as Luke knew he would.

"What... happened to Mon?"

Luke met Han's eyes, determined not to be forced to feel guilty- more by himself than Han. "You know what happened- she was executed. She led a rebellion against the Empire. The penalty for insurrection is well publicized."

Han looked back down to his glass uneasily. Finally he murmured without looking up, struggling to find the words. "It's just... you knew her so well."

"Yes, I did- which was why it came as something of a surprise when she ordered my assassination." There was an edge to his voice now, the idealistic kid Han had known completely gone. "What was I supposed to do- let her keep on taking pot-shots at me until she suceeded? "

Han said nothing, and Luke relented slightly, his voice quieting.

"They didn't... she wasn't interrogated. I think Palpatine knew how..." He stopped; he'd been about to admit just how uneasy he'd been at Mothma's execution; that Palpatine clearly hadn't felt that interrogating her - and having Luke know it - wasn't worth the alienation it would cause between himself and his precious Jedi. But he held to silence, refusing to be made to feel he should defend his actions against someone who had tried very hard to kill him.

"I dunno." Han murmured at last, "I just... don't know sometimes. It's all so..."

"Muddy." Luke finished knowingly into the protracted silence. "It was so much easier when it was black and white, wasn't it? They always say 'know your enemy', but that's as much a hindrance as a help."

Again the uneasy silence stretched, but it was less fraught now, neither man wishing the other any enmity. Eventually Han looked up. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to rule an Empire." Luke said simply, no trace of doubt in his steady voice. "What are you going to do?"

"I dunno. Try to stop you I suppose."

"You don't sound very sure."

Han looked up at the young man before him, confident and composed before someone who had just declared their intentions to stop him, despite the fact that Han wore a sidearm and Luke, clearly, had nothing at all. But then that hadn't exactly been a flyaway success. He studied his old friend for long moments, but Luke held his eye, composed and unruffled- and completely without chagrin.

"I once had a guy tell me- when I told him I was a smuggler, a mercenary - he said... 'You should be careful; the thing that you seek to claim has a way of reaching back and claiming you.' "

"Really?" the barest of ironic smiles touch the corners of Luke's scarred lips. "I once heard him say, 'Who's the more foolish; the fool or the fool who follows him.' "

Han smiled lopsidedly at having been caught out, then the smile fell away. "Do you..."

"Forgive him? For lying to me... repeatedly? No, I don't think I do. But then I'm sure he wouldn't forgive me for... my decisions since."

"Do you... hold him responsible for all this?"

The kid's face remained absolutely neutral, whatever was going on behind that mask completely hidden. "As I said; they were my decisions."

Han pursed his lips, glanced away; seemed almost embarrassed to ask. But when he did Luke wasn't surprised- save that he hadn't asked the question sooner.

"Are you... Sith?"

"Would it change your view of me?"

When Han didn't answer, Luke frowned slightly, wrinkling the scar by his eye, "You once told me you didn't believe in the Jedi - one must assume by extension that you shouldn't believe Sith exist either."

"Things change. We all make mistakes."

"Yes... we do."

Han frowned at the distant tone in the kid's voice, but Luke realised immediately and whatever regrets were playing across his mind in that moment were instantly quashed. "Do you even know what a Sith is?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

"Should I take that as a 'no'?"

"If I said yeah, would you answer the question?" Han said, aware now that the kid was neatly avoiding anything he didn't want to answer.

"Probably not," Luke replied easily, amused that his bluff was being called, again surprised it hadn't come earlier. "Other than to say that a Sith would have no compunction about using a 'friend' to his own advantage."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Han realised even as he said it what the kid was getting at- it was Han, not Luke, who was asking all the questions here. Luke hadn't asked one, not about the Alliance, what Han was really supposed to be doing here, nothing. His friendship with Han lay outside of all other considerations.

Han frowned again, glancing at his drink, "Is this Corellian?" It was hardly a subtle change of direction, but then subtlety wasn't really Solo's style.

"Of course." Luke said. "I'd never dare serve you anything else."

"It's good- good vintage. I... um..." A long silence followed before Han looked up, shaking his head, "I don't... I have no idea what to say."

Luke held his gaze, face unreadable, that slight smile still etched on his features without ever reaching his eyes. "Ask what you want to ask."

Han paused a few seconds more... "What the hell happened?"

Luke didn't change that cool, composed expression, the brittle silence stretching out; but his mismatched eyes became distant, lost in memories Han couldn't begin to comprehend.

"I thought he'd kill me... I thought if I made enough noise and mess getting you out, he'd just kill me and that would be it... Then I woke up in a cell, and I thought, I can still do this- if I say no enough times; if I made it difficult enough, he'll kill me. But he never would, quite..."

He blinked as if breaking a spell and turned to Han, neither accusation nor abandonment in his gaze, but Han felt the guilt burn through him all the same, the memories of the dozens of times he'd wanted to go after the kid and let himself be talked out of it still smarting. Luke continued, face emotionless though his voice almost cracked, his accent recognizable now.

"I kept telling myself, 'One more day. Just make it through one more day.' And then another... and then another. And no-one ever came." He shrugged, oddly resigned, "But then I never really thought they would... I was where I was supposed to be - what I wanted was immaterial."

Was that... regret? Han grabbed at it with both hands, some chink in that previously impervious armour. "You don't believe they're right..."

"I don't think you're right either - I don't think there is a right - not anymore."

"Then leave! Just leave- get out of here."

"And go where? There's no place Palpatine wouldn't find me, not now. There's no-where left to hide. He'd raze a planet to track me down, burn through a whole system if he thought it would flush me from hiding- he's made that very clear and believe me he never bluffs."

"Go to the outer systems, the Unknown Regions. Take the Falcon- you can have her."

Luke smiled at that, knowing Solo meant it. "If I did I'd be signing your death warrant. And the Rebellion's. And anyone else who'd ever known me- anyone at all. He'd take you all down; first because he'd believe you'd helped me and second because he'd... he'd know that I'd sense it and eventually I'd have to come back just to stop it. And there are people here too now, people in the Palace who..." he stopped abruptly, as if realising what he was saying, those shields dropping into place with practiced ease. "And anyway; I need to stay. I have plans in motion and as I've told you, most of them involve my ruling the Empire one day. Which would be difficult to do from the back of beyond."

Han shook his head, frustration fuelling his discontent, but Luke only smiled again, amused at his friend's unease.

"I think," Luke said at last, "That one of the things I've learned being here is... not to take things so personally. Sometimes in the real world we have to accept that there are complications to every friendship. But that doesn't necessarily exclude them."

Han recognized the offer on the table... and why did the kid even have to check? He nodded, tipping his head, throwing out a casual jibe at his friend, "When the hell did you get so smart?"

The smile which had hovered on Luke's lips for so long finally touched his eyes, "Well you know, one of us had to grow up eventually."

They were silent for a moment, but it was less fraught this time, more comfortable. Han took a gulp from the brandy, still smiling into the glass...

Luke glanced sharply away then back to Solo, rising, his voice clipped and formal again. "Well this has been interesting, but I think it's time for you to go."

Han frowned, thrown by the sudden change in the kid's demeanour, "What?"

"Mara Jade's on her way up here and she doesn't keep secrets well."

Han glanced to the doorway Luke had already reached, himself rising. He almost asked how Luke knew, but stopped himself in time.

"She's been around a long time." he observed instead, "Are you and she uh...?"

Those mismatched eyes seemed to see clean through him. "She's still Palpatine's agent."

"Hey I didn't ask if it was serious."

The kid just smiled enigmatically, leaving Han to frown at his friend, curious...

"You need to take a left-" Luke said. "At the end of the corridor there's an emergency exit which has a deactivated alarm. Take the staircase up three levels- no further. When you come out onto the corridor you'll be under surveillance again but the lens is on your right hand side and doesn't cover the actual door. Turn to your left and don't look back and you won't be I.D.'d. Go straight to the nearest turbolift and don't get off until someone else is in the lift- and don't press the floor you need."

Han nodded, frustrated that their brief discussion was coming to an end all too quickly, "We should... do this again."

"No, we really shouldn't." The kid stated unequivocally, though there was amusment in his voice. "When you get back to your quarters, you should pack your bags and go. I assume you can get your own transport?"

"Hey- it's me."

Luke broke into a genuine smile, quickly quashed, and Han couldn't help but do the same. He had, he supposed, everything he'd come here for; let the others take care of the rest. He'd come to find an old friend- and much to his own relief, he hadn't been disappointed.

"Good to see you again, kid. Take care of yourself."

Luke smiled just slightly, those strange mismatched eyes at once familiar and strange. Han nodded once then set off down the corridor, two steps away before Luke's quiet voice called out, "Solo-"

Han turned and Skywalker raised his eyebrows pointedly, though he was still smiling, "You sneak back onboard my ship again and I'll throw you in the brig."

.

.

.

Unexpectedly, still figuring out his escape route, Han was visited just a few hours later by the big, no-nonsense dark-haired Aide, who politely but firmly told him to gather his stuff, then led him in silence to one of the restricted Bays.

When the massive bay doors cycled open, Han's eyes skipped about, trying to take it all in. This was one of the 701st bays, he knew, out of bounds to all personnel except members of The Heir's own squadron. The Alliance had no information at all on the 701st, except that they were completely loyal to The Heir; no idea of numbers, vocations, units, nothing. General opinion in the Intel circuits was that this was because the Empire didn't either- you couldn't steal information that nobody had.

Less than half the soldiers present were in 'trooper's armour, the rest in fatigues, a few in civilian clothes. The ships too were a mix, mostly TIE's, a squadron of I-TIE's neatly stowed, several skiprays and blastboats to the rear of the bay, none with military markings; he took care to try to remember those- he may come face to face with them again when he was in the Falcon an if he did, he wanted to know about it. Nothing bigger here, but then there were nine bays in total dedicated to the 701st.

He was still glancing about, trying to remember specifics, when Reece slowed ahead of him, making Han turn. They'd stopped near the front of the bay, a sleek but not too new shuttle there. Luke stood close by, speaking to a tall, moustache'd man with sharp eyes and a casual, effected slouch. He wore civiian clothes and a time-worn gunbelt. The matt, oiled blaster in it was a newer moel of Han's own Blastech.

When Luke turned simply nodding in recognition.

"Karrde, this is Solin; Solin, Karrde."

The two men glanced at each-other, each giving the other a professional once-over.

"Karrde has agreed to give you passage to the nearest planet." Luke continued.

Han opened his mouth to object, but Luke kept on talking without acknowledging him, explaining away his change of heart at leaving Han to make his own arrangements to leave without giving too much away. "Unsurprisingly, we keep a close tab on the military ships assigned to the Patriot."

Han frowned, wondering if there was more to it than that, but clearly now, before Karrde, was not the time to talk. Still, he couldn't help but make one last ditch try, uncomfortable at being cornered like this. "Ah, you'd never miss one ship on a Destroyer this size."

"Until it turned up trying to sneak back onboard with a hold full of explosives." Luke said mildly, tone neither accusing nor judgemental. "Besides, Karrde is heading your way."

"Which way's that?"

"Out." Luke said succinctly; "Quietly."

He took a step back, clearing Han's path up into the shuttle, and Han nodded once, setting forward.

"Incidentally... Solin; you forgot something."

A second man who had been stood close by, short and slight with olive skin and sharp, watchful eyes, stepped forward to hand Han a small box. He took it warily, unsure what would be inside.

When he opened it, it contained the five transmitters that Han had spent the last few days placing in strategic points throughout the Destroyer.

"Thanks for that." he muttered dryly.

"No- thank you." Luke said with a tip of his head, but there was humour in his voice so Han rolled his eyes before hesitating, unsure what to say, aware that many eyes were on him - that so much had changed.

But some things remained the same, if only because Han wilfully kept them so.

"Be careful." He warned the kid, a brotherly tone in his voice.

Luke smiled, tightly, appreciative of the genuine concern, aware of his own for Han.

"Keep doing what you're best at."

For a moment Han frowned, uncertain what he meant, then a stray memory connected; of long ago, in the Rebel base on Yavin, the Death Star closing in; when Han had told the kid he was leaving - leaving the Alliance, leaving that whole sorry mess behind - told Luke if he had an ounce of sense he'd do the same.

"Well take care of yourself, Han." The kid had told him, so fresh he probably still had Tatooine sand in his boots, "But then I guess that's what you're best at, isn't it?"

At the time it had been an insult, but they'd laughed it off within the day, gotten themselves fall-down-drunk and put the galaxy to rights the same night. It was all so easy, black and white. Reality... that was all the greys in between.

The Corellian nodded, suddenly melancholy, briefly smiling that lopsided grin before turning to walk up the ramp.

.

Karrde studied the Heir as he watched the unknown man walk up the shuttle ramp, aware that there was more going on here than met the eye- though that was true of most of his meetings with the Heir.

Luke watched in silence as Han disappeared into the ship, well aware of Karrde's curious eyes on him. His change of heart had been prompted by a reconsideration of just how much trouble Solo was capable of generating even when doing something as simple as leaving the Destroyer. Something would happen and it would all go ballistic- it always did with Han.

And even if it didn't, Palpatine would never believe that someone had simply stolen onboard a Destroyer that Luke commanded and made off with a ship. Especially when he went after the other spies, which he intended to do just as soon as Karrde left - which once more made Han's return to the Rebels a little muddy.

He had no idea what story Han would give for his time onboard the Patriot - whether he would admit to having spoken to Luke or not - but the opportunity to add a little ambiguity to the plot was just too tempting to pass up. Those who thought Han was trustworthy would believe this just another attempt by The Heir to muddy Solo's reputation in the Rebellion and those who thought him a double-agent would see it as proof for the very same reasons.

Plus it helped to alleviate the pressure from Argot, which was never something to be passed up on. Han would weather it unbothered, as he did most things, and it seemed that whilst their friendship remained intact, the occasional play wasn't out of the question; Solo hadn't come clean about the transmittrs after all.

Without turning, Luke waited until Han was entering the shuttle before saying quietly to Karrde, voice dry and distant, "Try not to shoot him- I know you'll be very tempted at times, but..."

"I'll endeavour to refrain." The mercenary said matter-of-factly, "Though with Corellians that can be hard."

"You're Corellian."

"Yes," The mercenary drawled, eyes still on the vacant ramp. "One has to appreciate the paradox that is my life."

Luke glanced sideways at Karrde before looking back to the now-empty ramp.

"Perhaps I should have told him not to shoot you." he said wryly. "Just drop him somewhere neutral; he can look after himself from there."

"I can imagine."

"And don't tell him anything."

Karrde's dark eyes came back quickly at that, "I thought you said he was one of your operatives."

"He is- he just doesn't know it. I'll be in contact." Luke turned before Karrde could quiz him further, glancing back as he left to add, "You should check your passenger- he's probably on your bridge by now."