She's a Rebel [Star Wars | Luke Skywalker] *EDITING*

Carbon Freeze

Lance marches me down the gleaming corridor, though the decorative geometric shapes don't seem as beautiful anymore. I don't look at him, and instead, stare straight ahead, sniffing irritably. My nose has stopped bleeding, and I can feel the uncomfortably large clot sitting right beneath my left eye. I sniff once again, the taste of blood lingering in the back of my throat. I still have no idea where we're going, but I don't have the courage to ask him just yet.

"It's good to see you again, General," Lance begins stiffly, still gripping my arm, his fingers beginning to dig into my skin. "Unlike yourself, your brother seems to have upheld his loyalty to the Empire. Perhaps he is far more grateful for their, and Vader's, help than you or Commander Nicholson."

I don't say anything back to him. All I can seem to think of is Luke. I can't think of anything else, I can't afford to. I'm going to have to try and find him. He can't face Vader, he won't survive it. He is nowhere near, ready.

"I would advise you not to think of young Skywalker," Lance warns. I don't have to look at him to know he's smiling in satisfaction.

We approach an elevator, and I remember my lightsaber, tucked away inside my jacket. I fear it may slip, so I press my arm to my side, attempting to hold it in place as we stop in front of the elevator. The door slides open, revealing three small, porcine humanoid creatures, no taller than three feet high. They grunt at me, their upturned noses glistening with snot and mucus, and they push past our legs as they waddle out of the elevator.

"Damn Ugnaughts," Lance murmurs angrily under his breath, shoving me inside the elevator. He steps in after me, pressing one of the buttons, and the door slides shut. His hand doesn't return to my arm, and I frown at this. Though, with my hands bound, and his Force sensitivity, there isn't much I can do anyway.

The elevator starts with a jolt as we begin our descent, and I keep my arm pressed to my side, ignoring the ever present and uncomfortable clot in my nose, and trying to ignore the rising fear I'm feeling for Luke's life. I just have to hope that he stayed on Dagobah long enough to stand a chance of surviving his imminent confrontation with Vader, that he took Yoda's words and teachings as gospel, that he didn't leave his training in a futile attempt to come and save me, of all people. I wonder, does he hope like I do?

The sick feeling of guilt from before returns. I should have stayed with him. I've been reckless once again. Yoda was wrong to call me a Jedi Knight.

The elevator stops with an identical jolt as when it started, and the door slides open. Lance's hand returns to my arm, and he marches me out of the elevator. We round several corners, still in silence, and it's now that I finally decide to ask the question that's been quietly gnawing away at me this whole time.

"Where are we going?" I ask, my voice sounding smaller than I'd like it to, looking up at him.

He glances down at me, his brown eyes boring into me. "You'll see."

I glare up at him, and his incompetence. We round another corner, only to find Vader conversing with the bounty hunter.

"Prepare your ship for takeoff," Vader finishes, pointing at the bounty hunter sternly.

The bounty hunter nods at him, and then turns and heads past me, and I can feel his eyes on me from behind his helmet until he's far down the other end of the corridor Lance and I have just walked up.

Vader's attention turns to Lance, and he looks at his young apprentice, and his hand on my arm. "Where are you taking Hawkins?" he demands.

"To my ship, to transport her to the Emperor," Lance answers, though it sounds like it's been made up on the spot, and not really that convincing. It sounds like a lie Zach or I would make up when marching Rebel prisoners down the long grey hallways on the Death Star or a Star Destroyer.