by Alex Wheeler
Star Wars – 0 ABY
Rebel Force #3
Renegade
by Alex Wheeler
CHAPTER ONE
The blue beam lit up the night, slashing through the darkness with an eerie glow. It painted swooping circles of light through the still air, the brilliant blue dancing to the music of chittering chucklucks and warbling bellybirds. Then, suddenly, the beam went out.
The darkness was complete.
Luke Skywalker stood motionless in the shadows of the towering Massassi trees, his hand gripped tightly around the lightsaber's hilt, waiting.
For what, he didn't know.
There were times when the lightsaber seemed to illuminate the world. Wielding the Jedi weapon made him feel safe and in control, as if the warm, blue glow kindled something inside of him. The lightsaber had been his father's, and it was his only true connection to the man who had been dead for as long as Luke could remember.
Times like these, he felt like a true Jedi. Like he was joined with the Force that Obi‑Wan had told him about, surrounding him, penetrating him. He was filled with a cool certainty that the Force would guide his way. That the lightsaber was more than a connection to his father. It was a connection to his destiny.
Then there were the other times. Times when the darkness overpowered the light.
Luke had spent the last several hours in the heart of the jungle, training with his lightsaber and trying to ignore his growing sense of dread. There could be nothing to fear on a night like this. The tropical humidity of Yavin 4 had given way to an unusually balmy evening. Massassi leaves rustled in the cool breeze, and in the distance, Luke could hear the muffled shouts of a casual game of zoneball. Inspired by the weather, the Rebels had come alive, engaging in landspeeder races, pick-up Grav-ball games, and parties. As if no one sensed the dark clouds on the horizon, the air heavy with doom.
Clearly none of them did, except for Luke, who suspected he was imagining things. Searching for problems where none existed. And so, unable to sweat out his tension in lightsaber training, he abandoned the calisthenics. On a night like this, there was only one sure way to cast off the unwanted tension—to escape all his problems, real and imaginary, giving in to the sheer joy of speed.
The speeder bikes were parked near the living quarters. Princess Leia Organa waved at him through the window as he passed, then turned back to her conversation with Han Solo. Although Luke couldn't hear them through the transparisteel, he could easily guess what they were doing: arguing.
It was pretty much all they ever did.
For a moment, he thought about going inside to break up the fight. But instead, he continued toward his bike. It was too nice a night to spend cooped up inside. He knew that trapped between four walls, his anxiety would likely boil over. He needed to be out in the wild, riding fast and free.
Tobin Elad, one of the newest recruits to the Rebel cause, was leaning against the crusty, purple bark of a crooked Massassi tree, watching the planet Yavin dip beneath the horizon. The night blazed orange as the massive gas giant plunged through the clouds. "Nice weather for a ride," Elad said, nodding as Luke passed.
The darkness was back. Stronger than ever. Luke forced a weak smile, fighting off the nausea. "Want to join me?"
Elad shook his head. "Another time," he said. "But have a good one."
Luke climbed aboard the bike, eager to get started. The speeders could go more than 500 kilometers an hour—surely fast enough to outrun the darkness.
He turned the ignition. The engine roared to life.
And everything froze.
For Luke, time slowed nearly to a stop, and everything became frighteningly clear. The burnt umber of the sky, the humid kiss of the wind. The vibrations of the speeder bike beneath him. The certainty that something was terribly, terribly wrong. This wasn't darkness he could outrun or ignore. This wasn't his imagination.
This was a warning.
As time sped into motion again, Luke flung himself from the speeder. He didn't think, he just acted, launching himself into the air—as the bike exploded in a ball of blue-gold fire.
X‑7 didn't feel, not in the normal human sense.
But as Luke's body slammed into the ground, limbs bent at odd, awkward angles, as the raging fire crept toward his still, broken form, X‑7 allowed himself a small smile. There was nothing like the satisfaction of a job well done.
Then he saw Luke's chest rise and fall.
His smile disappeared.
X‑7, the man Luke knew as Tobin Elad, rushed to kneel beside the body. If anyone was watching, it would look like the loyal Elad was desperate to save his fallen friend. No one would see the assassin's hand covering Luke's mouth, his fingers pinching Luke's nose shut, the feeble flailing of a wounded body struggling to breathe. Just a few more seconds, and his mission would be complete. Luke Skywalker, destroyer of the Death Star, hope of the Rebellion, target of the Empire's most ruthless assassin, would finally be—
"Luuuuuuke!"
X‑7 winced as Leia's screech pierced the night. He had only a split second to decide—kill Luke now, once and for all, and risk discovery? Or let the situation play itself out.
He let his hand drop away from Luke's nose and mouth. Within moments, a panicked crowd had formed around the fallen Rebel. "The bike just exploded," X‑7 said, as Leia cradled Luke's head in her lap, urging him to hold on until the medical droids arrived. Han Solo appeared just behind her, hands clenched in frustration at not being able to act. "It's lucky he wasn't killed instantly."
Lucky indeed. The speeder had been wired with enough explosives to blow Luke's body to bits—but that was assuming Luke had stayed on the bike. Instead, he'd thrown himself out of the way, just in time.
How did he know? X‑7 thought, frustrated.
Not that it mattered. The shock wave had caught him, flung him like a rag doll. And if Luke's current injuries didn't kill him, X‑7 would help them along. Nothing was easier than taking down weakened prey.
Three 2-1B medical droids loaded Luke onto a stretcher and carried him away, their prongs and manipulator arms already at work assessing the damage. As the fire burned itself out, the crowd lingered, reluctant to leave the scene.
"Could it have been an accident?" Leia asked, looking anxiously in the direction the droids had taken Luke.
Han and X‑7 shook their heads at the same time. "Someone sabotaged that bike," X‑7 said grimly. "No doubt."
"But who'd want to hurt the kid?" Han said.
X‑7 held in another small smile. Han was about to get his answer.
They all were.
CHAPTER TWO
This is wrong, Leia thought, waiting impatiently for the Rebel security patrol to bring her some kind of answers. Yavin 4 was supposed to be a stronghold, a safe base for the Rebel Alliance. Alliance was the key word. They were supposed to all be on the same side. Fighting the Empire, not each other.
But somehow, an enemy had found his or her way into the heart of the Rebellion. And now Luke was immersed in a bath of healing bacta, fighting for his life; the enemy was still out there somewhere. And Leia was just waiting. Helpless.
Useless.
General Dodonna and Commander Willard had convened a hasty tribunal to investigate the crime and prosecute the would-be assassin—if he or she could be found. Leia would have chosen General Airen Cracken to head the investigation, but she had to admit, the leader of Alliance Intelligence had bigger things to worry about. Which meant Leia would have to do the job herself.
"Report," she ordered Lieutenant Fraj T'lin, whom she'd tasked with beginning the field work while she hovered anxiously by Luke's bacta tank. T'lin flinched, like he was
afraid she would lash out. Leia sighed, forcing herself to be patient. She was exhausted and frustrated, not a good combination. After the explosion, the medical droids had struggled to keep Luke alive through the night. He made it through to sunrise, but it had taken nearly another full day and night to stabilize him. A full day and night that Leia had sat beside his unconscious, broken body, silently begging him to live. And wondering what she would do if he died.
She hadn't slept. How could she, when Luke was fighting to survive?
How could she sleep now, when the assassin was still out there?
"Well?" she snapped, when T'lin seemed reluctant to speak. "Have you uncovered anything?"
The lieutenant, an Arpor-Lan, tugged nervously at the stubby horns sprouting from his chin. "We released our modified patrol droids throughout the compound. Each is capable of detecting traces of detonite through more than two meters of durasteel or any other protective casing."
Leia forced herself to be patient. T'lin was babbling, and she wanted to shake him, force him to get to the point. But she had to remind herself that the explosion had come as a nasty surprise to everyone. They were all rattled. They were all doing their best.
Including the enemy, Leia thought. He's doing his best, too. To kill Luke. And he almost succeeded.
"And your droids found something…?" she prompted T'lin.
He cleared his throat. "Maybe it's better you see for yourself."
Leia rolled her eyes, but she agreed to follow him. The lieutenant brought her down the path toward the living quarters, then wove through the buildings to a familiar door.
"What are we doing here?" Leia asked, beginning to understand why Lieutenant T'lin was refusing to meet her gaze.
"Through here, Your Highness," he said in response, ushering her into the room.
While on Yavin 4, Han Solo spent most of his time on the Millennium Falcon. No reason to put down roots, he always said. After all, it's not like he was joining the Rebellion.
He'd always refused to do that.
Still, the ship was cramped, rusted, and falling apart. And when he tired of tinkering with cracked transducer panels or leaky fuel conduits, the sparsely furnished room offered Han a place to stretch out and relax with a good game of dejarik.
The room was empty now, except for a rusted patrol droid. Like most of the Rebellion's equipment, the droids had been scavenged from abandoned Imperial outposts and retrofitted for service to the Alliance. This one, equipped with a highly sensitive modified sensor array, hovered next to a low cabinet, whirring urgently.
The door was half-open, offering a glimpse inside.
Leia caught her breath.
"Is that…?" she said when she was able to speak.
Lieutenant T'lin nodded, looking surer of himself, now that she could see the evidence for herself. "Two kilos of detonite. Enough to blow half this base sky-high. Who knows what he was planning to do with the rest of it."
"He wouldn't have," Leia said. "He couldn't have."
"I know he's a friend, Your Highness—"
"Where is he?" she snapped, remembering herself. She forced the emotion out of her voice and off her face. "Have you confronted him with this?"
"Denied it was his," T'lin said flatly. "Claims he was framed. Got no proof, though."
Of course he was framed, she reassured herself. Han would never betray us. He would never hurt Luke.
"How well do you really know him?" the lieutenant asked.
"Well enough," she said tersely. "I presume you've taken him into custody?"
"He's waiting to be interrogated," T'lin said. "We assumed you'd want to select someone for the job."
"You assumed right," she said. "I'll do it myself."
"You don't think he could have done it?" Tobin Elad half-said, half-asked, as they stood outside the room where Han was being held. Though she'd only known him a short time, he'd become a good friend.
Of course, that's what she would have said about Han, too.
Nothing's changed, she told herself. Han didn't do this.
Leia shook her head. "I know Han. Someone must have set him up."
Elad nodded. "It could have been anyone." He gave her a wry smile. "Maybe you should be interrogating me," he suggested. "After all, I just showed up out of nowhere, right? You barely know me."
"You showed up out of nowhere and saved all our lives," she reminded him. "And you joined the Rebellion as soon as you had the chance. You've been with us every step of the way."
"Just like Han," Elad pointed out.
"Han refuses to join us," Leia pointed out. "He claims the only cause he believes in is the cause of himself."
"He's a good liar."
"Yes…" Leia said thoughtfully. "He is."
"I know Han brags about being willing to do anything for money," Elad said, "and that he's always reminding us that the Rebellion isn't his fight, but you know him, Leia. You know who he really is."
Leia knew Elad had been trying to comfort her. To assure her that Han was innocent. And she knew that to be the case. Deep down, she felt it. Han was a good man, a loyal man.
But with every word out of Elad's mouth, she found herself more and more uncertain. How well did she know Han? How much of what came out of his mouth was bluster—and how much was true? He boasted about being a mercenary, loyal to no one but himself.
Empty boasts, she reminded herself.
Maybe.
"You want me to go in there with you?" Elad asked.
She didn't want to face Han alone. She didn't want to face him at all, not with these accusations hanging over him. But Luke's life was at stake—perhaps all their lives. "I need to do this myself," she said.
She had to find out what was really going on, and right now, Han was her only lead. This wasn't about what she wanted. It was about being objective. Yes, she would give Han every chance in the world to establish his innocence. But in the end, she wasn't here as his friend. She was here as a representative of the Rebel Alliance Tribunal, and that meant she needed more than just her gut instinct that Han was innocent.
She needed proof.
Han didn't know how the explosives had ended up in his quarters. He didn't know who would want to frame him. He didn't know what the Rebels would do if they didn't believe his story, and he didn't know how long they thought they could hold him in this dank cell, asking him question after question.
But he did know who they'd send in to get their answers,
He knew she wouldn't be able to resist.
"Greetings, Your Worshipfulness," he said wryly, as she stepped into the room. "Fancy meeting a princess like you in a place like this."
She scowled. "Luke is doing better, if you care," she said.
As if there was any doubt that he cared.
"You seen him yet?" Han asked, careful to keep his voice neutral. He wasn't about to go all weepy over the kid, especially now that he knew Luke would be all right. Sure, he'd been worried, but Luke was tough. Certainly tougher than Han had expected the first time they'd met. Just like that old hermit of his—both of them proving more than met the eye.
Of course, tough hadn't been enough to keep the old man alive.
Luke's fine, he reminded himself. Worry about yourself. And Chewie.
The room, really a large closet in the rear corridor of a storage facility, was completely bare, except for two chairs. Han was sprawled in a corner, doing his best to look comfortable and unconcerned. But when Leia sat down in one of the chairs and pointed to the other one, he gave in and took a seat.
"I don't know anything about those explosives," he said, getting down to business. "Someone's setting me up."
"You have proof?" Leia asked. She sounded almost skeptical.
Which was impossible, because of all people, Leia had to know he'd never hurt Luke…right?
"You want me to prove someone's setting me up?" Han asked. "How am I supposed to prove anything, locked in here?"
She didn't answer. "Who do you th
ink it might be?" she asked.
"I don't know," he said, frustrated. "But it's obviously got to be someone."
"Because?"
"Because it wasn't me," he snapped. "Why would I try to kill the kid?"
Leia raised her eyebrows. "Why do you do anything?"
"I don't believe this!" Han exclaimed. "What kind of laserbrain does it take to think that I would go after Luke?"
He expected her temper to flare, as it always did. They would argue, as they always did, and in the end, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from laughing, as she always did. Then they would agree that this was insane and get to work on finding the real culprit.
Except she didn't take the bait. And when she spoke, her voice was level and perfectly calm. Only then did he start to worry. "I don't know why anyone would go after Luke," she said. "But someone did."
"You really believe I could do this?" It looked bad—he knew that. Explosives in Han's quarters, explosives on Luke's bike. Even a nerf-brain could draw the connection. But Leia was no nerf-brain, which meant she should have been able to see that the connection was too obvious. This wasn't just a frame-up job, it was a bad frame-up job.
It was almost like she didn't want to see it—like she wanted him to be guilty.
"I'm just trying to be objective," Leia said. "Evaluate the evidence, find the truth. My personal beliefs don't enter into it."
"Okay, let's say I did it," he said, trying a different tack. "Why would I be stupid enough to hide the explosives in my quarters? Why not on my ship? Or in someone else's?"
"Why would someone set you up?" Leia countered. "You barely know anyone here."
"Because I'm not a part of the Rebellion, you mean?" Han said. "That's what this is about, isn't it?"
"That's not—"
"After all the times I've saved your skin, you still don't trust me, because I won't put on a uniform and sign on the dotted line."
"I'm just asking questions, Han."
"And I'm done answering them." Han folded his arms. "After everything I've done for you and your Rebellion, you suspect me of—" He shook his head. "No."