Heir to the Empire

Chapter 5

It was another dream. The fuzzy feeling of floating endlessly in an empty void. His surroundings were dark and hard to make out. But that ended quickly as he felt a cold rocky floor touch his feet. The fuzzy feeling grew stronger with every step he took. At the end of the pathway was a temple, barely visible as it fades in and out of existence.

“Welcome, Luke Skywalker,” a raspy voice said, whispering in his ears. Luke turned around but found no one near him.  “Hello?” he called out to no one in particular.

His surroundings suddenly went silent. He felt his body tense up before he felt himself stumbling onto a hard wooden floor. He extended his hands out to slow down his fall, only for another pair to catch him.

Luke looked up to see his savior. The hands led to a hooded figure. Their features are hidden within the cloak. “Easy there,” the figure spoke out as it helped Luke get up to his feet. “You are a Jedi. You must stand tall before the others.”

“The others?” Luke asked, confused as to what the figure was implying.

“Of course,” the figure replied. “The other Jedi. You are not alone anymore,” the figure extended his hands before him, and out of thin air six other hooded figures appeared. They all surrounded Luke.

“We await your arrival, Luke Skywalker,” they said in unison. Luke felt an immense pain in his ribs as the hooded figures came closer and closer.

“Luke!” they shouted in unison as the pain grew stronger. “Luke!”

“Luke!”

___

Luke opened his eyes as the stinging pain hit him in the rib. “Luke, wake up!” a voice hissed at him. His sight remained blurry before he could recognize the voice; to see a pissed off Leia jabbing him in the rib. His eyes widened when he suddenly became aware of where he was. The mixed reaction of both human and alien displeasure confirmed his fear—the New Republic committee.

“Sorry,” was the only words he could think of at the moment. Leia shook her head in embarrassment.

“As I was saying—,” Han continued as he set down his report. “—most of them just don’t see any real gain in switching from their current activities to straight shipping.”

“You’ll recall that I disagreed with this idea all along,” Admiral Ackbar added, waving his webbed hand towards Han’s report.

“Or else—,” a melodic alien voice put in, “—it’s a lack of trust. Could that be it?”

Han grimaced before he could stop himself. “It’s possible,” he said, forcing himself to look at the wretched Borsk Fey’lya.

“Possible?” Fey’lya’s violet eyes widened, his cream-colored fur ruffled slightly with motion. It was a Bothan gesture of polite surprise, one which Fey’lya liked to use a lot.

Han sighed quietly and gave up. “Some of the groups I’ve spoken with simply don’t trust us.” He sat down, slapping his hand in frustration. “They think the offer is some kind of trap to lure them out into the open.”

“Because of me, of course,” Admiral Ackbar growled. “Haven’t you grown tired of taking this same territory, Fey’lya?”

Fey’lya’s eyes narrowed as he gazed silently at Ackbar, the tension rising around the table. They had never liked each other, Han knew, not from the first day Fey’lya had brought his bothan people into the Alliance shortly after the battle of Yavin. Right from the start Fey’lya had been craving for power and influence. Ackbar, as well as most of the Alliance leaders, had considered such ambitions to be a dangerous waste of time and effort, particularly given the bleak situation the Alliance was facing at the time. Still, if it wasn’t for Fey’lya’s people, they would have never found out about the second Death Star orbiting the moon of Endor. Han never learned just how the Bothans were able to discover such details, that not even the Alliance’s best spies could find. And to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.