My first and only Star Wars fan fic was written in 1997, six years after Timothy Zahn’s trilogy of novels (beginning with Heir to the Empire) reinvigorated the Expanded Universe and two years before the dreadful prequels began.
However, the only background material I used for “Pursuit of Force” was what we learned in the original trilogy of films. I wondered what might have occurred in the time between A New Hope (ANH) and The Empire Strikes Back (TESB) without referencing any novels or short stories that might have addressed this at the time.
In TESB, while at the Rebel base on Hoth, Han Solo makes an offhanded comment to Leia about encountering a bounty hunter on the planet Ord Mantell. What was that about? Why did Han go there between Yavin and Hoth? What of Luke? Would he be interested in learning more about Obi-Wan Kenobi and if so, where would his curiosity lead him? Finally, how was Darth Vader rescued and brought back to the Imperial Fleet after his TIE fighter was knocked out of the Death Star trench by the Millennium Falcon? These questions were much too tantalizing for this young storyteller and avid Star Wars fan to leave unanswered…
“Star Wars: Pursuit of Force” Part I
Phil Giunta
Prologue
The team would not leave until the last footprint was swept from the dirt surrounding the ancient Massasi temple. The structure that once housed many of the Rebellion’s most courageous and honorable members was now devoid of life. The final transport ship departed over two days ago.
Only Commander Xemer and his crew of twenty SF-9 droids, nicknamed ‘seek and find’, remained. Equipped with highly sensitive scanners including infrared and x-ray, it was the job of the SF droids to efficiently search for and retrieve even the smallest scraps that might have been left behind by those who were preoccupied with the frantic evacuation of the moon base.
Xemer’s role was to inspect what was forgotten and make the decision as to whether it should be salvaged or destroyed. Thus far, the droids had found little more than personal belongings, which carried no markings or information as to the identity of their respective owners. As such, they were immediately incinerated, leaving no trace of their existence.
After their most recent defeat, the Empire would be pursuing the Rebel Alliance with even greater fervor now, but there was more to the clean up effort than just ensuring that nothing remained behind for Imperial Intelligence to uncover. The Alliance also believed that in leaving their temporary homes in the same condition in which they found them, thus showing respect and appreciation for the environment, perhaps the Force would continue to be with them in their struggle.
The estimated time for the team’s task was almost up. From a stone balcony, Xemer gazed for the final time upon the lush, thriving jungle surrounding the temple as far as the eye could see. This late in the afternoon it was bathed in a rich orange hue reflected by the gas giant Yavin, hanging low in the clear blue sky. Inhaling the damp, fragrant air, Xemer turned to step back into the room and was immediately greeted by a dozen droids that had silently glided in on their repulsorlifts and lined themselves up against the far wall, single file. After a few seconds, six more arrived and took their place at the end of the line. Xemer waited a full minute, during which no more droids entered the room. He raised his handheld comlink.
“Commander Xemer to units SF-nine-eleven and SF-nine-sixteen, report.”
There was no reply for several seconds. Xemer opened his mouth to repeat his order when one of the droids in the room spoke up in its electronic, monotone voice.
“SF-nine-eleven experienced a severe coolant leak at fourteen hundred seven hours.”
“Why did it not report this to me?” Xemer questioned.
“SF-nine-eleven’s coolant fluid leaked heavily onto its communications board, destroying its micro-transmitter. The coolant had also entered its thrust generators effectively clogging three of its four repulsorlift emitters. SF-nine-sixteen is currently tractoring SF-nine-eleven and both should be reporting in shortly.”
“I see,” Xemer replied, the slightest hint of annoyance in his tone. He wanted to make it out of the Yavin system long before half the Imperial fleet arrived and tore the place–and him–apart.
Xemer addressed his comlink once more. “Xemer to Fiery, confirm voice identity.”
“Confirmed,” the synthesized female voice of the light personnel carrier’s droid co-pilot responded.
“Begin preflight checks and prepare for lift-off in twenty minutes.”
“Acknowledged.”
Xemer turned to the SF droids. “All units aboard the Fiery, I will wait for SF-nine-eleven and sixteen.”
In unison, the droids turned towards the door and glided out in the direction of the landing bay beneath the temple.
***
Dropping out of hyperspace, the fleet of Imperial Star Destroyers, led by the Empire’s massive flagship, Executor, entered the Yavin system like six arrowheads cutting through the dark of night toward some distant target. No sooner had they arrived than they were assaulted by an unavoidable field of debris, remnants of a battle fought days ago that resulted in the destruction of the Empire’s most powerful and feared space station, the Death Star. Now, nothing remained save for the various fragments of metal and plasteel that tumbled end over end until they either bounced harmlessly off the deflector shields of the huge vessels, or were destroyed by the Imperials’ precision firing.
Aboard the Executor, itself easily ten times the size of the standard Star Destroyers flanking it on all sides, Captain Piett hurried across the expansive bridge to the forward viewport. Observing the fleet’s progress there, Admiral Ozzel did not bother to turn upon hearing Piett approach.
“Admiral,” the captain began. “The Fearsome reports an energy signature on long range sensors. It is faint, but the transponder code matches that of Lord Vader’s personal TIE fighter.”
At that Ozzel whirled to face Piett. “Instruct Captain Daverd to break formation and investigate. If it is Vader’s ship, have him tow it aboard immediately. And keep me appraised of his status, Captain.”
“Of course, Admiral,” Piett replied with a sharp nod before rushing off to carry out his orders.
***
“Estimated time to intercept.”
“Thirty seconds, Captain.”
Hands clasped behind his back, the ever arrogant Captain Daverd of the Star Destroyer Fearsome paced slowly back and forth on the upper deck of the bridge glancing down at the officers manning their stations on either side. Many of these soldiers had only heard of the Dark Lord’s reputation but had never met him in person. The possibility of the latter occurring seemed to noticeably increase their alertness. Daverd for one was not easily impressed by stories.
He stopped abruptly and turned to his tactical officer. “Lieutenant, prepare to activate the tractor beam on my mark.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Lord Vader’s ship confirmed, Captain.”
Daverd moved quickly to the Ops station and peered down at his first officer, Commander Medlen, who was overseeing the expedition from there.
“Report, Commander.”
“It’s running on extremely low power, sir,” Medlen reported. “Almost adrift.”
Daverd stepped across the catwalk to the communications officer. “Contact Lord Vader’s ship.”
The ensign complied immediately. After several attempts, he reported no response.
Pausing for a moment, Daverd turned back to tactical. “Lieutenant, engage tractor beam. Bring that ship in. Ensign, have a medical team meet myself and Commander Medlen in the docking bay immediately.”
***
As if guided by a steady invisible hand, the custom crafted TIE Advanced x1 glided with smooth precision into the Fearsome’s underbelly and touched down gently on the floor of the landing bay.
From the observation deck above, Daverd, Medlen, and the medical team watched and waited while air pressure was restored inside the bay. Finally, with an escort of a dozen stormtroopers, the group made their way down to inspect the vessel. Taking the lead as soon as they entered, the medical team reached the craft first.
After a brief glance into the cockpit through the ship’s forward viewport, the chief medical officer called over the maintenance crew on duty and ordered them to pry open the dorsal hatch.
While they went to work, Daverd and Medlen stepped in front of the fighter and gazed curiously inside. Staring back at them in eerie silence was the imposing, cloaked form of Darth Vader sitting motionless in the pilot’s seat. Whether he was actually alive or not was impossible to determine through the black face mask and helmet that covered his entire head. The status lights on the respirator mounted in the center of his chest, however, seemed to have been a source of concern to the doctor.
Within seconds, the seal on the cockpit hatch was broken and the small round door was thrown back. Wasting no time, the chief medical officer leaned down into the cockpit for a closer examination of the Dark Jedi’s lifesigns.
“Well, doctor, is he still alive?” Daverd asked impatiently after only a few minutes.
Lieutenant Commander Crendan carefully pulled himself up and out of the hatch. “His breathing is shallow and his pulse is weak,” he replied, sitting upright atop the craft. “I can’t be certain if he’s actually unconscious or in one of those Jedi healing trances. The Jedi supposedly had the ability to enter a trance, almost a self-imposed coma, while under extreme survival conditions or fatally wounded. I need to get him to sickbay before I can make a determination.”
The doctor turned and signaled for his team to assist him in extracting Vader’s large frame from the fighter’s cockpit. Daverd turned to Medlen and motioned him a few steps away to give the medics room to work.
“Some Jedi,” Daverd snorted. “If Vader is dead, it would be no great loss to the Empire. It wasn’t only Tarkin’s incompetence that led to the loss of the Death Star. If Vader wasn’t so clumsy as to allow the theft of the station’s plans in the first pla–”
Without warning, Daverd’s face suddenly paled to white and his hands shot up to his throat, desperately tugging at his uniform collar. He began to gag violently before suddenly dropping to his knees.
Alarmed, Medlen turned back to the medical team–and uttered not one word as a chill shot up his spine. He swallowed at the image that would later burn itself into his mind.
The medical team stood at rigid attention beside the TIE fighter only watching as Daverd writhed on the floor in agony. The reason for the captain’s suffering was standing half out of the ship’s cockpit. Darth Vader, the Dark Lord of the Sith, peered down at Daverd, his black gloved hand closing slowly as the captain choked out his last breath. With a frightening finality, Vader clenched his fist into a tight ball and Daverd’s convulsions abruptly ceased.
Unable to move, Medlen simply watched in silence as the corpse of his former commanding officer was quickly dragged away by two stormtroopers. He continued to stare at them in an effort to avoid meeting the gaze of the towering dark figure now climbing out of the fighter.
“I do not take kindly to insults,” Vader declared in his deep, bass voice. In one fluid motion he stepped fully out of the cockpit and leaped from the top of the craft, landing with a practiced grace onto the landing bay floor.
“Did you agree with his statements, Commander?”
“Of–of course not, Lord Vader,” Medlen sputtered, forcing himself to face the Dark Lord.
“A very wise response. I trust your sincerity.”
It was all Medlen could do to keep himself from shaking visibly as Vader approached. “Prepare a shuttle to take me to the Executor. I will assume command of the fleet from there. Order all ships to the fourth moon of the gas giant. There you will find the Rebel base. I want top speed, Captain Medlen.”
With that Vader brushed past and stormed off leaving Medlen to ponder the chances of his own longevity.
***
The last of the SF droids locked themselves into their flight stations and powered down as the Fiery lifted off from beneath the enormous stone temple and climbed skyward. Due to SF-nine-eleven’s unexpected malfunction, the team’s departure was almost a full thirty minutes behind schedule. Under less critical circumstances, such a delay would merely have been considered unacceptable. During wartime, it could result in certain death.
Xemer’s attention turned to the sensor grids as the vessel cleared the moon’s outer atmosphere into open space. Though the grids reported no activity this side of the gas giant, Xemer wasted no time in preparing for their rendezvous with the main fleet.
“Activating locator code,” Xemer announced, flipping a series of red and black switches on the navconsole to his left. As he did so, a sequence of coordinates scrolled slowly up the monitor screen. When they did not stop after filling the entire screen, Xemer nodded his head in silent approval.
“Ten seconds to hyperspace entry,” said the bluish-gray co-pilot droid standing to Xemer’s right. With exact precision, N2-V was counting down the remaining seconds until they were far enough out of the gravity well of Yavin and its moons to safely make the jump to lightspeed.
Xemer moved his hand towards the hyperdrive lever atop the navconsole—but his fingers never reached its metal grip. With a startling pitch, the Fiery’s red alert sirens screamed from the cockpit’s speakers. Xemer shot a glance back to the sensor grids and felt his stomach sink practically to the deck. Two Imperial Star Destroyers were rounding the gas giant in full pursuit. As he watched, four more dropped out of hyperspace and fell into formation. Xemer froze for a split second, marveling at the size of the lead vessel.
“Hyperspace entry in five seconds,” N2-V droned in its synthesized female voice, unaffected by their rapidly deteriorating situation.
“Raise shields!” Xemer ordered over the wail of the klaxon. He slammed a button above the port console and the sound abruptly ceased. Adjusting the sensor grid, he silently read the data that was flashing on the monitor. It did not tell him anymore than he could see by looking out the side viewport. The Destroyers were nearly in weapons range.
This was immediately verified when the Fiery was slammed by a blast fired by the lead ship. As the Destroyers began breaking formation to surround the dwarfed carrier, Xemer read the damage report at the status panel. The aft shield generator took the brunt of the attack but was still functional. He knew there was no way they could prevail in a shooting match against six Star Destroyers, but they could still make a run for it before they were surrounded.
Xemer pushed the engines to full throttle and the Fiery veered away from the Imperial fleet. The effort was in vain, however, as another shot sent Xemer sprawling to the deck.
“Hyperspace entry no longer possible,” N2-V stated flatly.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Xemer muttered in annoyance, his words drowned out by a third blast that, according to the growing damage report, destroyed two of the carrier’s four sublight engines.
Within seconds, all open space outside the Fiery’s forward viewport was filled with the sight of Imperial ships as they surrounded the tiny Rebel transport. Even if they could run now with two damaged engines, they would never escape the intense interdiction field created by the proximity of the Imperial vessels.
For a brief moment, Xemer simply stopped and closed his eyes. Drawing a deep breath, he lifted his hands from the navconsole and sat back in his chair.
“Cut the engines,” he ordered calmly.
N2-V swiveled its metallic oval head, bringing its glowing optical sensors to peer at Xemer. If he didn’t know any better, the commander would swear the droid was actually shocked.
“Sir, if I may,” N2-V began, “we cannot permit this vessel to be captured. Such an event would have the potential to reveal the current location of the fleet–”
As if on cue, the ship suddenly lurched forward and came to a dead stop. Xemer did not have to check the sensor grid to tell him that within seconds, they would start moving upward towards the docking bay of the Super Star Destroyer looming above.
“Tractor beam,” Xemer commented. “So, you were saying?”
“Sir,” the droid pleaded. “If we cannot escape, then our secondary option is–”
“I know what our options are. Cut the engines, now, or I’ll do it myself.”
For several moments, N2-V continued to stare at Xemer.
Probably burning its brain circuits trying to gauge my sanity.
Finally, the co-pilot droid turned back to its console and complied.
Peering at the sensor grid, Xemer performed a quick mental calculation. Satisfied with the result, he rose from his seat and moved to the rear of the cockpit to a panel that was purposely situated on the starboard bulkhead, well away from the rest of the ship’s controls.
Opening the transparent plasteel cover, Xemer gazed at the row of five buttons. Above each, a small round light shined bright green. Without hesitation, he pressed the buttons in the appropriate sequence. As he did so, the lights turned from green to yellow.
“Engaging self–destruct system,” he announced needlessly before pressing the final button. At once, all five lights flashed a steady red. Xemer closed the cover on the panel and turned to leave the cockpit. Before reaching the door, he heard N2-V power itself down, its bright violet eyes fading to black.
“Wish I could do that,” Xemer muttered.
Passing the rows of SF droids lined up on either side of the deck, Xemer approached the tiny refresher unit and poured a glass of water. He took a tentative sip and grinned ruefully as he held his glass outward.
“To life,” he said loudly as if addressing a crowd. “The long and the short of it.”
With that, Xemer swallowed the rest of his drink in one gulp and hurled the cup across the room. He watched it collide with the bulkhead—but never heard it shatter.
***
“Report, Admiral!”
On the bridge of the Executor, a shaken Admiral Ozzel stepped rigidly forward, trying to prevent his growing fear from becoming apparent. “We did nothing, Lord Vader,” he explained. “The Rebel ship self-destructed. The docking bay has sustained minimal damage.”
For several uncomfortable seconds, that to Ozzel may as well have been an eternity, Vader remained silent. Listening to only the rhythm of the dark lord’s automatic respirator made the admiral wonder if his own next breath would be his last. The fact that he could not discern Vader’s expression through his impenetrable face mask only added to Ozzel’s discomfort.
Finally, Vader turned his back on the admiral to stare through the main viewport at the massive orange planet that lay beyond. “It is of no consequence now,” he said. “Order General Veers to assemble his troops. I will accompany them to the surface of the fourth moon.”
Relaxing inwardly, Ozzel bowed his head stiffly. “At once, my lord.”
***
Hours later, teams of stormtroopers and Imperial Intelligence swarmed every level of the former Rebel base. Outside, a half dozen AT–ST vehicles stomped through the surrounding jungle, mercilessly crushing the landscape under each pair of towering steel legs.
Overlooking all of this from a balcony atop the ancient temple, Darth Vader stood alone. Despite the best efforts of the soldiers below, Vader knew their search was in vain. The Rebel Alliance, though loosely structured, was nothing if not efficient in its use of resources. They would have left behind no indication as to their next course of action or destination. Still, Vader allowed the search to continue if just for the sake of standard Imperial procedure.
Thus, it was not the possibility of uncovering such information that prompted his visit here. Since returning to the site of the Death Star’s destruction, Vader was reminded of a presence in the Force that he sensed during the ship-to-ship combat against the Rebels. Then, he was in pursuit of the last enemy fighter to remain in the battle and was mildly surprised by the noticeable, albeit undisciplined, control of the Force from the ship’s pilot. Had he not been distracted by this, Vader would have been able to evade the blast from the interfering Corellian smuggler that knocked his personal TIE fighter wildly off course, allowing the Rebel pilot to deliver the fatal blow to the Empire’s ultimate battle station.
Here and now, traces of that same presence surged, if only fleetingly, through the sky, the jungle, the very stone that surrounded him. As Vader lifted his gaze to the skies, and extended his senses out beyond the stars, he realized that he must seek out this individual and complete his training in the Force. The Emperor would not allow the son of Skywalker to become as powerful as his late father.
Else, Darth Vader would be forced to destroy him as well.
Chapter One – Quests
A bright emerald gem in the middle of white speckled blackness, Steruub grew increasingly larger ahead of Luke’s X-Wing as he prepared to land at the planet’s only spaceport.
Entering the Ranoka system without incident inspired Luke to approach on the planet’s day side. In doing so, he was treated to a breathtaking view of its landscape unmarred by orbiting vessels or satellites. As he smoothly descended through Steruub’s atmosphere and approached the spaceport, Luke spotted the assigned docking platform and landed perfectly in its center.
During his journey, Luke took the opportunity to reflect on the unbelievable series of events that swept him from his placid life as a moisture farmer on the lonely, desert planet of Tatooine to become one of the Rebellion’s newest heroes.
The excitement of such an honor, however, could not erase the memory of those he had lost along the way. Beyond the senseless murder of his aunt and uncle by the Empire and the fiery death of his longtime friend, Biggs Darklighter, during the Death Star attack, it was the loss of someone he had only just met that had the most profound affect on him.
After the battle of Yavin, a memorial service had been held in honor of General Ben ‘Obi-Wan’ Kenobi, struck down at the hands of his own former student, Darth Vader. It has been during that ceremony that Luke decided to research the Jedi Knight’s past and find out whether he had left any family behind.
Upon mentioning his idea to Princess Leia, she had immediately made the Alliance’s historical library available to him. Once Luke had finally left the moon base aboard the Corellian Corvette, Invulnerable, he spent hours researching Old Republic military records, finding many of them to be incomplete. Much information had been lost during the Clone Wars and still more had been destroyed by the Empire in recent years. As such, he had nearly given up until he came across a file that described a visit, made by then Major Ben Kenobi, to the planet Steruub in the Ranoka system on the edge of explored space.
The file indicated that Ben had been stationed there for one year. After his assignment was over, however, he had revisited the planet at least five more times during his service until his final promotion to General. The records had also mentioned a civilian named Jianna Droxx, with whom Ben had apparently worked. There had been no further information on her other than a city, Treyal, but it was enough for Luke. He had felt certain that if he could find this woman, he might discover a way to continue his Jedi training.
In the cockpit of the X-Wing, Luke removed his flight helmet. “I need you to stay with the ship, Artoo. I’ll check back in a few hours.”
R2-D2 bleeped in compliance from its station atop the fighter’s dorsal hull as Luke opened the hatch and climbed out of the craft. Instead of the standard orange flight suit worn by Rebel Alliance pilots, Luke donned a nondescript tan jumpsuit with matching brown boots and gloves. A black utility belt and holster carried his blaster and lightsaber.
Traversing the bridge connecting the docking platform with the spaceport facility building, Luke took in the surrounding area. The platform assigned to him was one of seven that were spaced evenly in a row about twenty-five meters off the ground. Looking down through the guardrail, Luke could see a half dozen docking bays at ground level designed to house larger vessels such as private yachts and cargo freighters. Overlooking all of this, the control tower stood about a hundred meters tall. It was a small facility by most standards but well suited for the low volume of traffic expected on a planet so distant from the major space lanes.
Luke silently thanked the Force that there were no Imperial vessels to be found. According to the latest reports from Alliance Intelligence, the Empire had shown no interest in this region of space. Let’s hope nothing piques their interest in the near future.
Entering the spaceport’s information office, Luke inquired with a helpful elderly woman about renting a ground vehicle. The attendant directed him to a place next to the docking bays below.
Luke took the next turbolift down to ground level and had no trouble finding it. He smiled wryly as he was reminded of the used speeder shop on Tatooine where he sold his uncle’s landspeeder in order to buy passage to Alderaan aboard the Millennium Falcon.
Here and now, he had barely stepped into the place before he was greeted by a burly middle-aged man wearing grease stained coveralls.
“Friend traveler!” the man began cheerfully. “I am Evad. It is my utmost pleasure to welcome you to Steruub. You are no doubt seeking transportation to tour our humble city of Treyal.”
“You could say-”
“Certainly!” Evad cut in without missing a beat. “Please follow me to the showroom.”
The salesman stepped around Luke and led the way to what was little more than a large service bay. Evad stopped in the middle of the room and spread his arms to encompass the rows of speeders and ground cars parked side by side.
“We have top of the line refitted models,” he boasted. “All of them at the peak of their performance.”
Looking around at the selection of vehicles, Luke guessed that most of them pre-dated even the most obsolete models on Tatooine. Evad urged him to take his time in choosing the right one, but Luke had already eyed a speeder that seemed to be one or two models older than the one he used on his uncle’s farm.
Using a counterfeit ID that had been fabricated for him by Alliance Intelligence, “Ilom Bedor” paid the fee for two days rental using Imperial credits. Evad then brought the speeder around to the front of the building, just outside the office door. Before climbing in and taking the controls, Luke asked the salesman if he had ever heard of Jianna Droxx.
“Of course I have!” Evad declared with a sweeping wave towards the docking bays and control tower. “She was one of the original engineers who designed our beautiful spaceport.”
Inspired by the news, Luke asked where he might find her.
“She lives along the Esign River just outside the city limits about a hundred kilometers east. It’s a two story blue house next to three huge keveya trees planted in a triangle formation. You can’t miss it.”
Luke thanked the man anxiously before taking off at full throttle. Evad turned a few shades paler at the sight of it.
“Drive carefully, sir!” he yelled as Luke arced the speeder east at top speed.
***
“Now, do we have everything?”
In the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon, currently docked aboard a Rebel transport, Han Solo shouted at the top of his lungs. From somewhere beneath the deck plates of the ship’s corridors, a thunderous howl of confirmation answered.
“Good,” Han nodded, speaking to himself as he dropped into the pilot’s seat. “‘Cause I really want to get out of here.”
“Without saying good-bye? I wonder if I should be offended.”
Han spun at the sound of a new voice, one that he had never expected to hear again. He paused at the sight of Princess Leia Organa who strode leisurely into the cockpit and took the seat behind Han.
“I really didn’t think you cared,” the Corellian replied curtly, returning to his pre-flight checks at the navcomputer. “But now that you’re here, see ya. It’s been a real blast and a half. Tell Luke I wish him luck.”
“Is it that easy for you?” Leia asked, a trace of resentment in her tone.
“Easy for what, to say good-bye?” Han turned to face her. “Read my lips, your Worship…”
He suddenly trailed off as he took in Leia’s appearance. She had changed from her formal ambassadorial garbs to a simple, loosely fitting gray silk blouse and burgundy slacks. What struck Han the most was that she had let her hair down to its full, natural length. At the sight of it, he found that his crass bravado had suddenly escaped him.
“Uh, good… bye,” Han finished before abruptly turning his back to her.
“Well, then,” Leia said, exhaling tiredly. “I guess persuading you to help us any further would be asking too much.”
“I’ve done enough charity work for your group,” Han remarked coldly. “It’s time I look out for number one again. I owe a large debt to an even larger Hutt and I’d like to settle it before someone drops in to collect. As generous as your reward was, I’ll barely have anything left over after paying Jabba.”
“There can be more where that came from.”
At that, Han stopped in mid-motion and slowly rotated his chair to face her once more. “Look, I’m not fighting the Empire for you or anyone else. I’m no hero, far from it in fact.”
“Some people here, like Luke, would argue that.”
“What about you?”
Leia sidestepped the question with a shrug. “That’s aside. I’m not asking you to fight the Empire. What I need is for you to do what you’re good at, whatever that is exactly.”
“Such as?” Han prompted.
Hoping that she caught his interest, Leia launched into her explanation. “During the Death Star attack, we suffered heavy losses in our supply of snub fighters which we need to replace as quickly as possible. Recently, Alliance Intelligence came across some information about a black market dealer who could possibly provide the ships we need. However, it’s far too dangerous at the moment for any member of the Alliance to make contact with him.”
“So you want me to be the point man,” Han surmised. He shook his head with an amused expression.
“I’ll try and double what we’ve already given you.”
“We’ll see,” Han said as he began considering the proposition. “Two things, who and where?”
“The dealer’s name is Zel Kanaan–”
Han snickered instantly. “You really know how to pick them. Kanaan would sell you the ships then turn the lot of you over to Vader the minute he had your money.”
“Then I guess you’re the right man for the job,” Leia said determinedly.
“Not so fast, your Holiness, just where did your information say he was dealing?”
Leia thought for a moment.
“Oh, yes… Ord Mantell.”