"Positive lock, sir. Establishing back-up..."
Caught in the invisible beam which held it stationary as the Destroyer powered toward it, a moment's optical illusion occurred as the Rebel ship seemed to Piett to reverse course, speeding backwards to them whilst they remained stationary.
"Confirming secondary lock. Tractoring it into forward bay nine."
The words were spoken automatically now, everything in hand, procedure being followed. Still, Piett waited until the Pit Officer confirmed that the ship was aboard before he dared turn away...
"We have acknowledgement. The ship's in F-nine, sir, full lock-down. Boarding parties are on the deck."
Piett turned and hurried after Lord Vader, relieved; his job was done now. Anything which happened from here on in was on General Veer's head.
.
.
.
"Son of a..."
Luke had watched, helpless, as the Destroyer loomed about them, the Falcon pulled inexorably closer.
A lurching jolt had yanked them all from their seats and brought reality snapping in about him, harsh and unyielding. And seconds--just seconds too late--all hyperdrive functions came back on-line, status lights momentarily illuminating green before they flashed red, unable to operate against the pull of a tractor beam.
Adrenaline pumping, galvanized into action, Luke spun round and set off from the cockpit at full tilt, his wounded arm still clutched to his chest. He was halfway down the corridor, Chewie rushing towards him from the opposite direction, when the pain exploded up his spine, dropping his legs beneath him as he fell to the ground with a yelp.
Chewie dashed forward, howling as Luke doubled up on the deck, beyond words. Distantly he heard Leia call his name, but in that moment he couldn't even turn his head against the wracking waves of pain which burst through him. Chewie gathered him up, the burning agony which knifed into Luke's spine unbearable at this, making him call out before blackness narrowed his vision to nothing.
The last thing he felt was the touch of Vader's mind as the darkness closed in...
"...uke...ke...ca.. hea...
"...have...wa...up...got to...
"Luke...Luke, can...hear me?"
He opened his eyes slowly, not daring to move. Leia crouched over him in the med-bay, hand to his cheek, and Chewie whuffed in the background, leaning in past the dark stranger who...
It occurred belatedly to Luke that Han was still not there. Previously, he'd simply assumed he was elsewhere on the Falcon, but the realization burst through his thoughts now as he automatically reached out with the Force, searching for his friend.
"Han?" he managed, "where's...?"
Leia looked away, avoiding his eyes, so he turned to Chewie, who threw his head back and keened a long cry. It needed no further explanation.
Taking hold of the edge of the bunk Luke hauled himself upright, gasping against the pain that lanced down his back. Leia pushed against him. "No, Luke. The fall's injured your spine, you have to rest. Stay..."
The heavy double-clang of the Falcon's landing gear setting roughly down was all the further encouragement he needed.
"Like hell." He was already on the edge of the bunk, biting back the fireworks which burst at every movement. "Chewie, I need a blaster."
Chewie turned without argument, almost throwing the stranger aside in his haste.
From the main hold, the sound of cutters engaging whistled a low note, turning everyone's head.
"Three minutes. Probably less," the stranger guessed, sharp, dark eyes searching the corridor. He turned the other way, shouting loudly, "Chewie, make it two!"
"Three!" Leia added, voice like steel.
She turned as Luke stood, shaky and nauseous, his maimed arm still pressed to him. Burning now, throbbing in time to his heartbeat at the effort of standing.
"Vader," she murmured, searching eyes on Luke. "What does he want?"
"Where's Han?" Luke avoided.
"Vader...tested Cloud City's industrial carbon-freeze unit on him. To use on you."
"He's alive?" Somehow, that one thought displaced so much misery in that moment. The crafty old Corellian was alive--he'd live to fight another day.
Leia nodded, though her voice was small. "Vader gave him to a bounty hunter, to take to Jabba the Hutt."
The Hutt; Han owed him, Luke knew. He'd kept threatening to leave to pay the debt off, but there was always one more repair to make on the Falcon.
Luke glanced again at the well-dressed stranger as Chewie rushed back in, bowcaster over his shoulder, an armful of blasters weighing him down.
The first sparks lit the bay behind them in an actinic glow. Threepio came barreling through, heading in the opposite direction, not even slowing in that moment.
Luke took the blaster, steadying himself against the bulkhead just out of the entrance's direct line of fire. He felt desperately weak, his head spinning just from the strain of standing. Tiny floating spots lit his vision, and he wasn't sure whether they came from the cutter in the bay or his own frail state. He hoped the former, but suspected the latter. His body was screaming out to rest now, so much so that he feared he might simply keel over at any moment.
Ignore it, there'll be time to rest when this is over.
He was dimly aware somewhere in the back of his mind that this wouldn't be over for a long time...
Movement caught his eye, pulling him back into the moment as a stray thought occurred. "Chewie, deactivate the droids. They'll leave them in the ship."
As if all this was a momentary complication, as if they'd be back in an hour or so, when they'd dealt with it. As if.
Still, Chewie whuffed assent as he turned and headed after Artoo and Threepio.
Leia took position against the far wall, her gaze tight and pinched as she glanced up to Luke. "What does he want?" she repeated.
"Me," Luke said simply.
"Why?"
The door exploded inwards through a flaring shower of sparks, the pressure change popping Luke's ears as he ducked back from the shrapnel. They must have used charges.
He glanced to Leia to make sure she was alright, back to the others...
Then he turned and opened fire.
.
.
Vader stood in the bay, General Veers beside him, as stormtroopers poured into the freighter.
Blaster fire ensued, intensified...
Their forward progress thwarted, the stormtroopers faltered, unwilling to risk the path through the bottleneck of the ship's narrow entry ramp when it was so effectively defended. Vader scowled, turning slightly to Veers, who pressed the headset to his ear, frowning against the cacophony of noise.
"Lieutenant, fall back. Use shock grenades...no, no, set them to stun."
"Send them in," Vader said simply, causing Veers to glance up sharply.
"My Lord?"
"Send them in. I want to see what he does." Vader turned back to the freighter, feeling no need to validate his order further.
He could sense Luke now, feel his resentment, his frustration, his betrayal. Could it be pushed over into fury?
His own anger was simmering too. Frustration at the boy's stubborn refusal on CloudCity, at his defiance here. He had offered the boy everything--everything--and he had turned it down, turned away. Had made his choice very clear. Foolish--to give up so much for simple sentiment.
Vader frowned at that consideration... Had it been a refusal of his offer--or of him? That thought hurt; that the boy had acted out of repulsion. It stung as it had never done before, that someone would judge him and find him wanting. It bit deep.
And fury rose against it; that his own son would do this, his own blood.
How dare he judge...
Vader strode forward, stormtroopers falling instantly back to give him room.