Magnetized – Chapter 10

Ben – Age 17/Rey – Age 7

Ossus

The silence of the temple surrounded him, cool air still smelling faintly of the logs and earth the temple had been built with. Luke breathed in its peace, working to calm the fear and dread that churned in him.

He was doing something wrong with Ben. He’d been doing everything he could think of to steer him away from his darker impulses, to teach him how to protect himself from Snoke, to help him find calm and peace.

Nothing worked. Ben was growing more resentful and defiant, not less. Since Jakku—

It was like something on Jakku had taken root in his soul, twisting poisonous, prickly branches through him. He continually questioned every Jedi principle—not just questioned. Rejected them.

Luke couldn’t convince Ben to let go, couldn’t make him believe his intensity and passion were paths to darkness.

How is caring a path to darkness? Ben challenged.

Because it leads to passion and possession, Luke answered.

And why are those bad?

Round and round they went, Ben smart enough to challenge the logic of Jedi teachings, picking at every flaw he found.

Luke had the sick feeling he was teaching a young Sith. When once, out of frustration, he voiced that fear, Ben had been unfazed.

The dark side is part of the Force. Does that mean the Force is evil?

Dwelling on the memory, Luke’s breathing had picked up. He centered himself again, made himself breathe slowly, in, then out, opened himself to the Force, let it flow through him.

He had to find a way to break through Ben’s resistance, give him a way to embrace the ways of the Jedi.

 

Ben – The Unknown Regions

The moon had no name, only coordinates on a star chart. The planet it orbited was a huge, half-illuminated swirl of blue and turquoise that filled the sky, dominating even the diamond-bright sun. The gas giant’s blue glow tinted the trees and rocky hills around an eerie hue.

Ben looked around warily, breathing slowly to try to calm the fast, heavy beat of his heart. “What’re we doing here?”

“You’ll see,” Luke said and struck off across the slope.

From the moment they’d boarded the shuttle, Luke had only answered his questions with various versions of you’ll see, or trust me.

Ben knew Luke didn’t like his questioning of Jedi beliefs. To him, questions meant Ben was going to the dark side. But so many things Luke taught just didn’t make sense. What made the light side good and the dark side evil, when they were both part of the Force? If a Jedi killed someone, how was it any different than if a Sith did? How was the Jedi mind trick a light side technique when it took the will of someone who couldn’t fight back?

Why has he brought you to this place? Snoke whispered into his mind.

Ben just hunched his shoulders.

You know he’s been displeased with you. Yet you’re far too powerful to turn out.

Ben sometimes hoped Luke would. It might embarrass his mother, but at least he’d have his freedom.

Perhaps he intends to strand you there, Snoke mused. Far out of the way, where you can trouble no one. It would be so easy. He could simply tell the other students you’re on a mission. They wouldn’t question Master Skywalker.

“My parents—” Ben started to argue, then stopped.

He hadn’t been allowed contact with his parents since he’d come to Luke. They would never know if he just…disappeared.

Ben glanced back at the shuttle where it sat in the cup of a small valley. It seemed very far away.

“Come on, Ben,” Luke called.

Ben hesitated, then followed, staying just a little behind.

What will you do if it comes to a fight? Snoke said.

Ben’s mouth went dry. “He’s not going to do anything like that.”

Best think about it, my boy, Snoke replied. One never knows. He faded from Ben’s mind.

Ben trudged up the slope behind Luke, his stomach squeezing into a cold, hard knot. His uncle would never do what Snoke said. Would he?

The trees grew thicker, gnarled branches twisting against the parent planet’s bright glow. Luke led the way between rough grey trunks. Ben panted behind him, his boots slipping on the steepening, rocky ground. At last, the slope rose in a sheer rock face. Stiff vines clothed with brittle leaves fell over a dark gap in the cliff—a cave.

Stopping in front of it, Luke turned. “When they built the Death Stars, the Empire stripped the known kyber-bearing planets for their crystals. Jedi padawans used to go to the crystal caves on Ilum to find their kybers.” His face set in hard lines. “Ilum was virtually destroyed, strip-mined down to the mantle. So were Jedha and Lothal. To this day, Lothal is barely habitable. All of which is a long way of explaining that I had to find another source for kyber crystals.” He gestured toward the cave entrance. “Here.”

Ben reached out through the Force. There was…something, a muted buzz. It might’ve been kyber crystals. It could be something else, too.

“I don’t need to say that this place needs to be kept secret. I don’t want to take the chance that what happened once won’t happen again.”

Ben nodded. “What happens now?

“You go into the cave and find your kyber.”

Ben knew he should be excited, but dread gripped him.

Luke studied him. “What are you worried about?”

Ben wasn’t going to tell him that. “I know you don’t like how I think about things—about the Force. Why are you going to let me build a lightsaber?”

Luke closed his eyes and let out a long breath. Opening them again, he said, “I want you to feel part of something—something greater. I want you to feel you can trust me.” He met Ben’s eyes. “Because I don’t think you do.”

Ben dropped his gaze. “Everything I do is wrong.”

“No,” Luke said. “But you’ve been given some wrong ideas. I’d like you to see a different way. I’d like you to be willing to.”

Ben had told him over and over: it wasn’t what he was told, it was what he felt through the Force. And the Force was wanted to be whole, not just dark and light, but everything in between.

“Why aren’t you willing to see a different way?”

“I have seen that way, Ben. I truly hope you never have to.”

Ben just stared at the ground, littered with sticks and brown leaves.

“If you want to find your kyber, go into the cave.” Luke settled himself on a rock split by the roots of a tree. “I’ll wait.”

Ben wished he could see into Luke’s mind the way he did others’. He couldn’t.

A thought came to him, clear as if someone had whispered it in his ear—not Snoke, this time. Something else, intuition or memory or the Force:

The only way out is through.

Ben hesitated a moment more, then parting the vines that curtained the entrance, he stepped into the cave.

The light from the entrance faded quickly. Sensing through the Force, he made his way forward.

There was nothing but darkness. Reaching ahead, he sensed that strange buzz again, a little like a murmur of many voices. A moment later, he realized the darkness was no longer complete.

He held a hand in front of him. There was the shape of his fingers against the faintest of glows. He walked faster. Soon the glow was bright enough to throw his shadow behind him. A few more steps and he found himself in its heart.

Kyber crystals lined the cave, filled it with their songs. The Force thrummed with their presence, their awareness. Ben stood and stared, so full of awe he could barely breathe. He took a step, then another, sensing for the crystal that called to him.

It was like walking through the woods at night, when nightsingers stuttered and fell silent as you came near. It was the same with the crystals. Their songs faded, their light dimmed and their presence withdrew from the Force when he approached.

Moving in his own little bubble of shadow, Ben continued deeper into the cave. His awe and excitement curdled into unhappiness. Was this what Luke had brought him to see: that he was too dark, too unfitting to even find a kyber? He wanted to turn back, but returning in failure would be more humiliating than continuing on, every kyber he passed rejecting him. Closing his mind and senses to the darkening kybers around him, he went on.

A single light glowing in the curtain of dimmed crystals caught his eye. Ben stopped, waiting for it to fade along with the rest. It didn’t. Cautiously unfurling his senses again, he felt it reaching out to him. Its music curled around him like a much-loved song long forgotten, soothing and comforting and joyous all at once.

Barely conscious of what he was doing, he knelt by the cave wall and reached for the crystal. It warmed and caressed his fingers like a stray ray of sunlight. Carefully, his heart in his throat, he closed his fingers around it.

With a snap he felt more than heard, the kyber broke loose, bathing his hands with a soft blue radiance. He dropped to his backside on the cave’s cool floor. He found himself smiling, smiling so widely his face hurt with the unfamiliar expression. His hand shook as he lifted the kyber, studying it closely.

It was the bright, clear blue of a summer sky, but a flaw ran through it—a faint line of shadow through its heart. Ben’s excitement and joy wavered. The crystal reached out to him again and he realized—

It didn’t have to be perfect. It was his, and that made it perfect just the way it was.

 

Rey – Jakku

Rey went to the tent flap and peered out again. A few dim lights showed in the tents around. Not many people.

“Mashra should be back already.” She dropped the tent flap and turned to Jin’x and Bitty where they sat on the dusty tarp floor.

“I know,” Jin’x said. “You said it ten times already.”

“Well, she should be.” Rey frowned. “I’m gonna go look for her.”

“You better not,” Bitty said. “We’re not s’posed to be out after dark. Bad people’ll get us.”

“I know,” Rey said, exasperated. “But there’s something wrong.”

Jin’x cocked her head. “You think so ‘cause you’re worried? Or ‘cause you know?”

Rey shifted from one foot to the other. “I can feel it. Can’t you?”

Jin’x and Bitty shared a look. “Okay,” Jin’x said. “I’ll go to Unkar Plutt. Bitty, you check around the bazaar. Rey, find Constable Zuvio and ask if he can help.”

“Okay.” Rey darted out of the tent before Jin’x could change her mind.

Constable Zuvio’s office was right at the edge of the bazaar, closest to the landing field. Rey meant to go there. She really did. She was even halfway across the bazaar, keeping an eye open in case he and his Kyuzo cousins were out on patrol. The farther she went, the slower her feet moved. Finally, her feet turned and took her another way. Which way, she didn’t know until she stood by the last tent, looking out onto the flats around Niima Outpost.

One of the moons was up, a small, bright yellow oblong that grew and shrank as it tumbled slowly across the darkening sky. Falling stars streaked and flashed. Scavengers said if you saw one hit the ground, it meant good luck. Mostly it meant good luck because it was maybe space junk you could salvage.

Rey stood a moment, lights from the tents behind her stretching her shadow across the bare ground. Jin’x would be mad at her if she went out there. But she had to.

Rey started out onto the flats. The ground was a pale, featureless blank, hard to tell distance or depth, but she didn’t trip over rocks or dips in the ground. Even in the dark, she almost never bumped into things. It was like she could feel where everything was.

The air was cooling quickly, though the ground still radiated warmth. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to go this way. She walked a long way before she saw a dark shape ahead. Her heart thumped faster. She started running, her throat suddenly so tight it was hard to breathe.

She could tell the shape was a person before she reached it. She fell to her knees beside it. The smell of blood and pee hit her. Her breath came out in little whimpers. Reaching out, she touched coarse fabric, stiff and sticky. She held her breath. Her hand shaking, she pushed back the hood that covered the face.

Even in the moon’s faint light, she could see it was Mashra. One eye was gone, that whole side of the face caved in. Her tusks had been driven into her mouth, the roots broken, bloody stumps.

Tears started pouring down Rey’s face. “Mashra!” She shook her shoulder. There was no warmth beneath the fabric. “Mashra! Wake up!”

She took her clawed hand, cold and stiff, put her own small hand on the unruined side of Mashra’s face. She sobbed. “Come on, Mashra. You have to wake up. We’ll find somebody to fix you. I promise. Get up, please get up.”

Mashra didn’t move.

Rey jumped to her feet. Dust and grit and small stones rose all around her in a hissing cloud.

Sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, Rey caught Mashra under the arms. “Come on. I’ll take you. You’re hurt too bad.”

She started back toward Niima Outpost, a spatter of lights in the distance.

Only Mashra’s heels dragged in the dust behind her.

 

Ben – Ossus

Even asleep, Ben was aware of the Force pressing against him, folding around him. But what finally dragged him out of sleep was the sound of crying. His eyes snapped open and he pushed up on one elbow.

On the floor, Rey sat huddled in a ball much like the first time he’d seen her.

He rubbed a hand down his face, trying to wake up. “Rey? What’s wrong?”

She raised her head. Her eyes were puffy with crying. Tears and snot streaked her face. “They killed her!” she sobbed.

He sat up in bed. “What? Who?”

“Mashra! They killed her! She didn’t come back from trading. We looked for her. I found her. In the desert. She—she—they—” Rey dissolved into sobs again.

Ben’s heart started galloping. He slid out of bed to the floor beside her. “Who did it? Do you know?”

Rocking, she shook her head hard. “No. But I’m gonna find out.” She let her knees go, planted her hands on either side of her and clenched her jaw. “We’re gonna find ’em. Then we’re gonna kill ’em.”

Cold fear poured through him. “Rey, no. You can’t. You’re just kids. You’ll get killed.”

“We already talked about it. We’ll sneak up on them. We’ll get ‘em.”

“Listen to me. You have to listen,” he said, increasingly desperate. “Even if you manage it, what about their friends? They’ll come after you. They’ll kill you, too.”

“They won’t.”

“Yes, they will. And then what? Mashra will still be dead. How will it help anything if you die too? Would she want that?”

That got through to her. “No,” she said, uncertain.

He’d seen Jakku. He knew there was no law there. “What about the other grownups in your family? Won’t they want to do something?”

“My family is gone.”

Ben felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. “What?”

“They flew away on a ship,” she explained.

He clenched his fists on his knees. “They left you?”

“They’re coming back,” she said defensively. “My dad said to wait. Mashra’s taking care of me.” Her lip quivered. “She was,” she said in a small voice.

He was beyond words. He sat and shook until he was sure he could speak without shouting.

“Bitty and Jin’x—they aren’t your brother and sister.” He’d thought they were. Now he was sure they weren’t.

“Mashra was taking care of all of us.”

Rage gripped him so hard he could barely breathe. At himself, for his stupid assumptions. At Luke, for his indifference. At the galaxy’s cruelty and injustice.

“What now?” His voice came out with a tight, strained edge.

The tears spilled out again. “Me and Bitty and Jin’x are hiding. Unkar Plutt is looking for us.”

“Why?”

“He’s gonna make us work for him. Jin’x said Unkar Plutt prob’ly killed Mashra so he can get the stuff we find for her, ‘cause we find the best stuff.”

Gathering himself, he used every bit of discipline he’d learned to push the rage down, to think.

“I want you to promise me—don’t try to kill anyone.”

“But—!”

“No, listen. There are other ways to get revenge, ways that won’t get you hurt or killed.”

Her mouth set in a stubborn, suspicious line. “What?”

He folded elbows on knees so he could look her eye-to-eye. He needed her to believe him. “Make their lives miserable. Ruin their things when they won’t catch you.”

She sat up, listening hard.

“You were finding…stuff for Mashra?” he went on. “Good stuff, you said. Make sure the stuff you bring them isn’t good. Make sure it’ll break.”

She made a thoughtful pout. “But Bitty and Jin’x want to kill them.”

“You tell them what I told you. Tell them it won’t do Mashra any good. All of you get together and figure out the best way you can hurt them and keep on hurting them for a long time.”

“Okay,” she said doubtfully.

“Promise? Even if Bitty and Jin’x still want to kill them?”

She gave him a long, frowning stare. “I still want to kill them.”

“But you won’t,” he said. “For me. Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Sniffling, she wiped her nose with the back of one hand. “Okay. Promise.”

The Force unfolded and she disappeared.

Dropping his head back against his mattress, Ben gusted a frustrated breath. To be able to see her, to talk to her and not be able to do anything…

He sat up, stared at his worktable where his new lightsaber sat among his pens and papers. No. The Force connected him to Rey tonight for a reason. It woke him up to connect them. That reason had to be because he could do something—something more than try to keep her from getting herself killed.

A number of desperate ideas crowded his mind. Desperate wouldn’t help. It had to be something that would work—

He stopped, blinked. Yes. It was still desperate, but he was pretty sure it would work. He’d get caught. Whether it was right away or later, he’d get caught. He’d definitely get in trouble, but he didn’t care. What mattered was Rey, and getting her out of there.

* * *

Ben didn’t waste time. Moving as silently as he ever did to creep up on some wild animal, he left his hut and crossed the green. Night insects hummed softly, undisturbed by his presence. Mim was a fat crescent low in the western sky, stretching his pale shadow long across the ground. A glow along the eastern horizon showed the coming dawn; he didn’t have much time.

Luke’s hut, a small timber structure like those of his students, was near his office. Ben released the Force and gave it as wide a berth as he could, circling around to the office door. Placing his hand over the lock, he narrowed his eyes and gave it a nudge with the Force. The light turned blue and the door slid open onto the dark room.

Ben used the Force to sense around him, to cross the room without bumping into anything. Finding and activating the comm was harder—he had to feel across surfaces. He touched a button and a screen lit up. Scrambling, he switched it off again, but the brief light had at least shown him the comm. He activated it, keyed in a commcode and waited.

A holo of a young woman with a cloud of black hair bloomed over the platform. “Senator Organa’s office. May I help you?”

“I’m Ben Solo.” The woman’s eyes went wide and he went on, “I need to speak with my mother immediately.”

“Sir, she’s in session—”

“I don’t care,” he broke in. “Tell her I’m here and I need to talk to her. I don’t have much time.”

“Yes, sir,” the woman said meekly. “Please wait.”

The holo dissolved into a cloud of static. Hunched over the console, Ben forced himself to breathe slowly, in, then out. Just like meditation. Except now, he had to keep his presence out of the Force, not in it.

He didn’t allow himself to track the minutes that trickled past, or think of what would happen if he failed. Finally, the static reformed into a familiar face.

 

Hosnian Prime

Leia had been half annoyed, half alarmed when she was called out of session for an emergency communication. It’s your son, an intern had whispered into her ear. Disbelieving, she’d almost waved him off. Some instinct had prompted her to excuse herself for the nearest private comm.

The moment Ben’s face materialized above the platform, every trace of annoyance disappeared. She couldn’t speak for a moment, soaking up every detail: the unfamiliar padawan’s braid, the new, harder angles of brow and cheekbones, the shadow of a beard and mustache around his full lips. The emotion that animated his features was every bit the Ben she’d known.

“Ben,” she managed to say as crisply as ever. “What’s this about?”

“I need to reach Dad. It’s important.”

Dad. That got her attention. How long since he’d called Han ‘Dad’?

“It must be, since you aren’t supposed to be contacting us at all,” she said. “Does Luke know?”

He gave a jerk of the chin. “Please, Mother. Just tell me how to reach him.”

“I guess that’s a ‘no,’” she said dryly.

He drew breath to speak but she raised a hand, stopping him.

“You can’t contact him, anyway. He’s in the middle of a race.”

Snarling wordlessly, Ben bent his head.

“Ben. Calm down. Tell me what’s happening.”

He pushed out a breath. “There’s a little girl. On Jakku. She’s an orphan. Her caretaker was killed and she’s in danger. Someone needs to go get her.”

Of all the things she expected to hear, this certainly wasn’t one of them. “A little girl. On Jakku.”

“Please, Mama. I don’t have much time. Just tell Dad. Ask him to go get her. She’s all alone in that place. I’ve been there. It’s—” He ran a hand down his face as if erasing a bad memory. “If you ever saw the way people live there, you’d understand. Please.”

“Luke—” she began.

“The Jedi don’t intervene in such matters.”

She could tell from the way he said it that he was quoting Luke. She could also tell how much he resented it. Of course he did. Ben had always cared… Well, not too much. Leia cared just as much about things. So did Han, though he’d never admit it. For the first time since she’d sent Ben to Luke, Leia felt a twist of deep unease.

“What’s her name?”

Ben visibly relaxed. “Rey. She’s thin, with dark hair. She has an Imperial accent. She can’t be more than six or seven.”

“Where is—”

“Ben!” Luke’s voice barked in the background. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Panic flashed across Ben’s face and the holo winked out.

Leia stared at the blank space in the air, her own heart hammering. “Ben,” she whispered into the quiet room. “What’s going on?”

 

Jakku

Hands on hips, Han surveyed the pathetic excuse for a spaceport. “What a pit. This place makes Tatooine look like a high-end resort.”

Chewie’s lip curled, showing the tip of a white tooth. “I can see why Ben wanted us to find the child.”

“No kidding,” Han said. Ben had always been rescuing helpless little creatures when he was a kid. Looked like he still was. “We’ll split up. You know what she looks like.”

“Thin, dark hair,” Chewie grunted. “Not very helpful.”

“I got the impression the conversation wasn’t very long.”

Chewie growled. “Children shouldn’t be separated from their families like that.”

Han stared at the tattered, sun-bleached tents flapping in the desolate wind. “Yeah, well, I didn’t win that vote.” He jerked his chin toward the bazaar. “Come on.”

Just before they stepped into the maze of tents, Han paused. “And while you’re at it, keep your eyes and ears open for any sign of the Falcon, huh?”

Chewie gave a grunt and a wave and lumbered off. Han went the other direction, looking while pretending not to look.

Han saw wrinkled oldsters aged by either years or hard living; a whole assortment of figures wrapped, hooded and cloaked either from protection against the heat or for anonymity; and a variety of hawkers, thugs and grifters—none very successful, or they wouldn’t be stuck in a shithole like this to begin with. But no kids.

He was deciding where to turn next when a high, creaky voice spoke behind him:

“You need food for resupply?”

He turned to see a small Nu-Cosian bent under a tower of cages containing cheeping, squawking avians.

The Nu-Cosian bobbed his head on his long neck and grinned. “Nice, fat bloggins. Good for roasting. Sneeps good for stew.”

“Uh, thanks. No. Thanks anyway.” There was no way around it. He was going to have to ask questions. “I’m looking for someone. A girl. An orphan.”

“Girl? Ah! Ah! Yes!” the Nu-Cosian said. “Girl! Ask Melo Odrus.”

“Okay,” Han said. “Where?”

The Nu-Cosian swung his head back and forth. “Come. I show you.” He waddled away, his cages swaying on his back.

The Nu-Cosian led Han to a building that looked a lot like a recycled cargo container and rapped on the door. A tall man missing an arm and one eye opened it.

Han rested his hand on his hip above his blaster. The man had a mild face and no visible weapons. There was nothing about him to indicate he was any kind of threat, but this place made every alarm in Han’s head scream. No wonder Ben was desperate to get the kid out of here.

“He come looking for orphan girl,” the Nu-Cosian explained, bobbing his head.

“Of course,” the man said. “Come in.”

Han stepped through the door. His gaze flicked rapidly over the space beyond—colorful but threadbare hangings from a variety of different worlds, rumpled rugs on the floor. The mingled smells of cheap perfume, spice and some kind of smoking weed permeated the room. The rattling climate control system strained to keep up with the oppressive heat.

Han knew what kind of place this was the moment he walked in. He would’ve walked right back out again, except he knew brothel girls often took care of kids—their own, other people’s. Still, he made sure to keep the man—Melo Odrus, he assumed—where he could see him.

“So many orphans on Jakku,” Odrus said, pulling aside a hanging of a suggestive-looking flower in rich red and luscious pink. “Life here is difficult and dangerous.”

The door creaked open. His hand near his blaster, Han let Odrus go through first.

The girls within wore translucent slips and robes that showed more than teasing glimpses of their wares. They were young. Not young enough. Smiling and simpering, they flocked around Han

He kept a wary eye out for knives or concealable stunners. “No, I’m looking for a little girl.”  He measured about hip-high with the hand opposite his blaster. “Thin. Dark hair.”

He didn’t even consider mentioning her name. He knew when to hold his cards close and when to show them.

The flock fluttering around him stopped twittering and drew back. One girl frowned and turned away. Han got a bad feeling.

“Ah. I misunderstood,” Odrus said. “This way.”

Han followed him out one door and in another.

The room was dimmer than the others, the lights on two low tables barely brighter than candlelight. Han registered three small lumps on a bed against the far wall. The next instant, he saw wide, scared eyes in small faces. It took him a shocked beat more to put everything together.

He spun, grabbed Odrus by the collar and slammed him against the wall. The lights on the tables shook. The little girls squealed and clutched each other, more scared than ever.

“You slimy son of a dung worm,” Han snarled. “This is what you do with your orphans? Sell them out to be abused?”

“You said—” Odrus choked out. “—you wanted—a little girl!”

“Shut up.” Still pinning Odrus to the wall by his throat, Han turned to the kids. “Rey.”

Clutching each other, they just stared at him.

“Any of you named Rey?”

One shook her head hard. After a moment, the other two did the same.

Han turned back to the whoremaster. “What about you? You know a kid named Rey?”

The door slammed open. Four thugs wrapped up from head to toe pushed their way in, blasters leveled on Han.

The kids scurried out past them like rodents.

 

Rey

Rey dragged her haul between the tents to Unkar Plutt’s concession stand. Sweat ran down her sides and her mouth was sticky with thirst. Her muscles felt shaky and weak. Mashra always made sure they had enough to drink. And eat. It wasn’t that way now.

She stopped to rest and catch her breath, wiping her face with a dirty sleeve. It was the time when the hot wind blew, the one the Teedos called the Breath of R’iia. Rey hated it. She hated it even more now than she did before.

She was just bending to her load again when a huge mountain of hair rounded the corner of the tent beside her. With a squeak of surprise and a little alarm, she took a step back and stared until she remembered staring would get you in trouble. Quickly dropping her gaze, she looked everywhere except the mountain of hair. A pair of huge feet with black toes stopped in front of her. Cautiously, she peeked up to see a pair of bright blue eyes looking down at her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I never saw anybody like you before.” She peeked up again. “What are you?”

He gave a funny moan and some grunts, showing sharp teeth.

Rey wrinkled her nose. “You don’t talk Basic?”

Rocking his head from side to side, he made more noises.

“Oh,” she said. “Can I touch you?”

He groaned, then went down to his knees. She came maybe to the middle of his chest like that. Reaching out a tentative hand, she stroked the hair on his arm. It felt much coarser than her own hair.

Rising to his feet again, he gestured in the direction he’d come from, then held out an enormous, furry hand.

She eyed it, then craned her neck to look up at him. “You want me to come with you? Why?”

She couldn’t understand his answer, of course.

Suspicion set in. She edged away. “I can’t leave my salvage.”

He grunted thoughtfully. Suddenly, he bent and picked her up.

“Oi!” she squeaked in surprise.

He deposited her on top of her load of parts and started dragging both her and it away, making noises as if explaining or apologizing.

She held onto the netting under her, the hard, lumpy load poking into her. “Listen, I gotta take this to somebody. If I don’t—”

“Hey!” a voice shouted. “What the kriff you doing?”

The hair-mountain stopped and turned, growling.

One of Unkar Plutt’s thugs stomped up. He wore a mask and goggles and a hooded, quilted jacket. Rey wondered how he didn’t die in the heat. Maybe cooling mesh under that jacket.

He leveled a blaster on the hair-mountain, grabbed Rey by the arm and jerked her off her bundle of salvage. “Nobody takes nothing that belongs to Unkar Plutt.”

The hair-mountain roared. The thug backed a couple of steps, not so tough. Rey liked that.

She jerked her arm in his grip. “He was only helping me!”

The thug didn’t let go. “Wookies eat kids. Don’t you know that?”

The Wookie roared again.

“You’re lying!” Rey said, suddenly on the same side as the Wookie. “He wasn’t going to eat me! He was being nice. Let me go!”

The Wookie showed his teeth and took a menacing step forward.

Flicking the safety off his blaster, the thug dragged Rey back. “Try it, Wookie.”

Rey turned and sank her teeth into his padded arm, biting as hard as she could. He shrieked and let go. She ran. The Wookie’s roars shook the air. She ducked into a tent, slithered under teetering shelves, their contents rattling threateningly, then crawled under the tent’s far wall. The whine of blaster fire came from behind her, men’s shouts, the Wookie’s roars.

She was just scrambling up when a hand grabbed the back of her shirt and swung her up into the air. She yelled and kicked, but an arm clamped around her middle and a hand over her face, smothering and half-blinding her. She tried to bite again but couldn’t make contact.

“Shut up,” a voice hissed in her ear. Jek Tufo, one of Plutt’s bullies. One of the nastier ones. “You already caused enough trouble. Remember what happened the last time you caused trouble?”

Rey stopped kicking and trying to bite.

“Yeah, you do,” Jek chuckled. “You’re gonna go even hungrier this time. Tame you down a little, huh?”

He carried her to a storage locker, opened the door and stuffed her in.

She braced her hands on either wall to keep from launching herself at him. “You killed Mashra, didn’t you?”

“What if I did?” She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the grin in his voice.

She was shaking now—with rage, not fear. “You’ll wish you didn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure I will.” Jek stuck a gloved finger in her face. “Keep quiet and I’ll tell Unkar none of this was your fault. Hear?”

“I hear.”

“Good. Don’t forget.”

He slammed the door. The lock clicked. Still shaking, Rey clenched her jaw against tears and slid to the floor in the hot, oppressive dark.

* * *

Han picked himself up out of the dirt, wiped the blood trickling over his lip and dusted himself off. The sound of blaster fire came from the other side of the tents. He spun.

“Chewie,” he muttered.

He pulled his own blaster and ran.

Chewie met him before he dove into the maze. Han fired at the goons on his tail. They scattered. Pausing first to fire his bowcaster at one who’d popped his head up, Chewie grabbed Han’s arm and dragged him away, back toward the landing field.

“I think I found her,” Chewie panted.

Han raced beside him. “Where?”

“Back there. I tried to bring her. That bunch showed up.”

Red streaks of blaster fire whined past them, kicked up grit around them. All in one motion, Chewie spun, dropped to a knee and fired. Two went flying backward, collapsing a tent in their wake.

More masked, hooded figures poured out of the tents. People scrambled out of the way, hit the ground, huddled behind whatever cover they could find.

Han crouched and zig-zagged, popping off shot after shot to keep them ducking.

Chewie fired over Han’s head. Two more thugs who’d been about to head them off went flying.

Han panted. “We stirred up a real viper wasp’s nest.”

He’d been in enough places like this he knew how it would go. If they got away, they’d live. If not, they’d disappear, and there’d be no one to do a damned thing about it.

The ship was almost in reach. Han scanned the sky. Empty. Good. They might have muscle, but they didn’t have ships.

He punched the remote to unlock and lower the boarding ramp. It touched the ground just as they reached it. Chewie thundered up first. From the slight cover of the ramp’s hydraulics, Han paused to pick off a few of their pursuers. Chewie roared at him and the ramp started rising. Han fired off a couple more shots for good measure, then ducked aboard.

Chewie was already in the cockpit, bringing systems online. Han dropped into the pilot’s seat. Beyond the viewport, a minor army of blaster-wielding goons fired at the ship. The shots flared white and yellow against the shields.

“You sure?” He flicked controls. “You sure it was her?”

Chewie growled. “No. I couldn’t talk to her. I couldn’t ask her name, and no one said it.”

Han cursed and slammed the control panel with one hand.

“What do you want to do?” Chewie moaned.

His big fingers touched the controls and the laser cannons fired, hot green streaks that sliced the ground in front of the hired muscle. They all scrambled backward.

Han scowled out the viewport, thinking hard. “What I want to do is get every kid out of there.”

Chewie made a sympathetic noise. “A lot of them would die if we tried.”

“I know,” Han growled.

“I’ll plot a course,” Chewie grunted quietly.

Han just stared out the viewport as the ground dropped away, hating reality, hating pragmatism, hating good sense.

Most of all, hating failure when it meant someone else would have to pay for it.

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