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"Well, the bartender's a bit backed up," said Han as he slid into the booth at the back of the crowded cantina. "Guess I'm stuck with soda."
He would’ve preferred something stronger but this would have to do. Taking a big swig of the sweet beverage as Chewbacca roared his approval across the table from him, he surveyed the bottles of throat-burning alcohol lining the back of the bar with some longing. He was snapped out of his reverie when Luke, hunched over in the corner, elbowed Han to get him to move over.
"You're pushing me into the wall!" Luke exclaimed, giving Han another shove for good measure.
"Okay kid, I'm moving!" He scooted closer to the edge, one leg dangling over the vinyl seat and into the aisle. He sent a quick prayer to whoever up there was listening. Please don't let anyone trip over my new leather boot.
Satisfied with their seating arrangements, the three launched into a debrief regarding their latest mission - sneaking into an imperial database, downloading the classified files, and then hacking the system to self-delete. Han wasn't sure why the princess asked the trio instead of one of the Alliance's computer experts. Luke's astromech did most of the work anyway while they stood guard.
But who was he to argue with the results? The mission was a success and now they were celebrating with greasy food and cheap drinks - just the way Han liked it.
They smoothly changed the subject when a waitress came by with a plate of nachos. "Here you are, boys," she barely got out as a ruckus near the front door caught everyone's attention.
Grabbing a handful of the cheesy, salty chips, Han craned his neck to watch an absolute moof-milker walk in. Looking like a bootleg version of Luke Skywalker with bleached hair, wearing obnoxiously large sunglasses and an oversized yellow jacket, arms raised to the sides like some kind of prophetic savior, he announced to the crowd: "No love for the pilot who kaboomed the Death Star?"
There was a silence that lasted half a second before a rapturous cheer erupted from the gathering. Han could only look on in disbelief as fake Luke basked in the adulation, high-fiving outstretched hands and accepting hugs from crying women. A large Gungan male evacuated his seat at the bar when fake Luke approached, and then proceeded to bow to him like he was kriffing royalty. Fake Luke continued playing up the crowd, blowing kisses all the while, while the bartender hobbled over to take his drink order. Meanwhile, the hollering and whooping never diminished. It was like a rock concert in here.
"Can you believe this sleemo?" Han asked incredulously, though it wasn’t really a question. He felt a shiver run down his spine. “What if…you-know-who drops by?”
Real Luke looked completely befuddled. Chewie howled in trepidation, and Han nodded vigorously in agreement. He beckoned the two closer so they could hear him over the noisy crowd. Yeah, they were in a territory that was highly sympathetic to the rebellion's cause. But if an imperial found out...
"We can't take the risk," Han whispered loudly. "Let's leave out the back door."
Trying to look as casual as possible, they began to filter out of the booth with as many of the nachos as they could carry. It was a dine and dash, but what was a guy to do? Just add it to the running list of things he owed money to.
"Wait a minute," said real Luke, suddenly looking nauseated. He glanced up at Han and Chewie with worried eyes. "We won't be able to get out of here."
Oh no. Han recognized that look. It could only mean...
***
Darth Vader, Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Military, was more annoyed and irritated than usual. He was in a nearby system, personally investigating the pilfering of highly confidential data tied to the empire’s expansion efforts, when he received a comm from Admiral Ozzel declaring that the rebel pilot had been located.
“Not captured, milord,” Ozzel specified when Vader demanded clarification. “Just located.”
The exponential bounty connected to the Death Star’s destruction was for an unnamed pilot. But he knew deep in his bones that the object of said bounty – Luke Skywalker, his very own son – would not be imprudent or careless enough to simply be located.
But here he was with three other officers from Death Squadron, marching down a narrow alley that led to this town’s premier and most-loved cantina. That’s how the petrified manager of the local spaceport described it after Vader threatened to remove his head from his body if he refused to give up the fraudulent pilot’s whereabouts.
As he drew closer to the entrance, he felt a bright flare of light – it was the same glowing Force presence he sensed as he pursued the rebel in the Death Star’s trench. My son is here? Vader thought in disbelief and growing excitement. Luke and his friends surely had enough time to flee across the galaxy with the stolen information but had chosen to stay behind.
Yes, he knew that his son was responsible for the theft. It was performed by someone highly intelligent with exceptional computer skills. Only Luke possessed such qualities amongst the rebels, he was sure of it.
Vader stopped in front of the neon green We are open! sign. The day was suddenly looking up. He would make an example of the imposter who dared to claim Skywalker’s name as his own and pick up his wayward son at the same time. His sour mood lessened. Today may be a triumph after all.
Using the Force to swing the grimy looking door open – Vader wasn’t going to even try to touch that thing – he entered the cantina, his officers trailing behind. All eyes turned to him with panic and horror. The Dark Side was feasting on the chaos; the commotion of terrified screaming was like music to his ears. He basked in it for a second longer before holding up a hand to freeze everyone in place. A fearsome hush descended, broken only by the sound of his steady, mechanical breathing as it filled the room. "Sit down," he told the frightened crowd sharply, dropping his hand. The patrons moved to obey and some even burst into full-on sobbing.
Vader ignored them. The mask turned to the garishly dressed human to his right, nursing a drink with a tiny umbrella in it. He seemed calm, except for his leg beating a furious staccato rhythm against the metal limb of his cushioned barstool. So this is the fool who believes he is of equal stature to Skywalker. He sneered as he took in the pathetic sight of the imposter. I will enjoy ending his life.
***
Darth Vader just stood there at the main door like a statue, his enormous figure as tall and intimidating as Han remembered, cape whisking around his armor like his grandmother’s heavy velvet curtains. All of the jubilation was gone, popped instantly like an over-inflated balloon. Of course Vader was a buzzkill, but the dramatic entrance just seemed excessive.
Three imperials in fancy uniforms appeared from behind him, blasters raised, and each took up a post in the open corners of the cantina. This is going to make escaping difficult, Han thought with a grimace.
Vader began to scan the room slowly, stopping when he reached their booth. The three were sitting back down now, eyes locked on the black suit of death because where else was anyone going to look? It was starting to feel uncomfortable so Han raised a hand and offered a weak wave. Chewie growled and batted his hand down with a hairy paw.
"What are you doing?" real Luke hissed.
"I dunno, I got nervous!" Han shrugged. "What is your Force telling you?"
Real Luke frowned. "It's not looking good for Luke 2.0 over there."
"Fake Luke."
"What?" asked real Luke, his face contorted into an expression of I can't believe we're having this conversation right now.
"Fake Luke. That's his name. Fluke for short."
He rolled his eyes. "Okay, whatever." He bit his lip, deep in thought. Then, leaning in closer and keeping his voice as low as possible, real Luke said: "I have a plan."
***
Vader narrowed his eyes at Captain Solo as he waved like a youngling. The large Wookie then flung a heavy arm in his direction and his other companion - his son - began having an urgent discussion with him. About the smuggler's unbecoming manners, he presumed.
That Luke was here turned out to be a blessing from the Force itself. He would retrieve him later, after he disposed of this half-baked charlatan who falsely identified himself as the famed rebel pilot and hero of the rebellion, who also happened to be the source of Vader's all-consuming obsession for the past 12 months. Stealing one more glance at his son – unfortunately, from this angle, all he could see was the back of Luke's head – Vader refocused on the task at hand and strode calmly to stand in front of the grinning miscreant, diners scattering every which way to clear a path for him.
He spoke before Vader had a chance to.
"Look, if you want me, you're gonna have to pay up," the imposter revealed confidently, his voice full of bravado that Vader would delight in crushing. "Alive and unharmed, right? Well, here I am."
Vader scowled. The moron was completely unaware of the danger he was currently in and Vader had no patience to indulge his antics.
"So, you are the pilot who destroyed the emperor's most prized weapon."
The imposter nodded, unafraid.
"What is your name?" Vader questioned, arms crossing over his chest above the blinking lights of the control panel.
"Ah, see, that's gonna cost you," the imposter replied smugly, index finger wagging at Vader. "Give me 50% of my bounty and I'll tell you."
Vader didn’t respond. The imposter cleared his throat rather loudly and tried again.
"Fine, 40%. You won't get a better deal anywhere else! And hey, I'll even let you know how I blasted the Death Star to smithereens!"
Vader's already thin patience snapped. "You are a lying, insolent, worthless piece of nothing! You waste my time with your foolishness.”
“Hey, wait…,” the trickster managed to choke out before he was easily lifted into the air by Vader’s outstretched arm. Fingers scrambled to claw at the invisible hands that curled around his neck, strangling him.
“Let this be a lesson to you all,” Vader bellowed, turning to address the crowd but tilting his mask firmly in the direction of the trio of rebels huddled together in a booth that was too small for any of them. “Claiming the pilot’s bounty also claims his crimes against the empire."
Vader twisted back around to the imposter, feeling the Dark Side race through him as the boy sunglasses fell off his face and his eyes began to bulge. So intent was Vader on making this fraudster suffer that he didn’t notice the heroic voice (which sounded suspiciously like it could belong to his son) somewhere behind him until it was too late.
“Now!” the voice shouted, and then all Vader could see was plumes of smoke.
***
Although Luke no longer had a living Jedi master to guide him in the ways of the Force, his escapades with the rebellion – and near-death experiences with the empire and enemies alike – had emphasized in him one simple truth: always trust in the power of the Force.
The disembodied voice of Ben Kenobi wasn’t speaking to Luke in the cantina right now (although he did talk to him sometimes, and once embarrassingly in the ‘fresher), but he could still hear his gentle, fatherly tone all the same.
Luke trusted in the Force, the way Ben had instructed him to. And so it wasn’t just sheer dumb luck that he, Han, and Chewie were still in possession of smoke grenades. They were a plan B, in case the plan A of get the data and get out was compromised.
All they had to do was wait for the right moment. Luke could tell that Darth Vader was becoming increasingly agitated with Fluke and so the expected Force choking was mere seconds away. While he was distracted with that, they would make a run for it.
A part of him wanted to warn the brash young man as soon as Vader walked in and offer himself up instead, in an act of reckless self-sacrifice that would probably make Leia tear her hair buns out. But Fluke was far too arrogant and cavalier for his own good – plus, Vader was his father’s killer, so really it was a wash.
Sensing Fluke’s impending demise in the Force, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few credits. Tossing them on the table caught Han’s attention.
Really? he mouthed. Luke could only shrug back. He couldn’t just cheat the hardworking staff, even in dire circumstances like this.
A few startled cries punctuated the air when Vader predictably raised Fluke’s body up with the Force. Luke rolled his eyes – only Vader could turn cold-blooded murder into theatre.
Clutching the explosive devices in their hands, Luke waited for a heartbeat, then…
“Now!” he shouted, and they tossed their smoke grenades indiscriminately into the packed crowd.
***
Han had been in a number of sticky situations before that required creative solutions. But never had he been the sweetpuff jam in the middle of a Skywalker and Wookie sandwich. One hand holding onto Luke’s, and the other grasping Chewie’s furry one, the three practically sprinted to the back door, which was hard to do in blinding smoke.
But Luke believed in his Force magic and it seemed to be working as he led the way to freedom. Han heard the pandemonium, the screaming and begging, but nothing miraculously got caught in their path as they staggered past the bar and into the kitchen.
Han’s brain was definitely playing tricks on him, though. He swore he heard Darth Vader himself scream the kid’s name…in worry?
“Luke! LUKE!”
It was probably his imagination working overtime from the rush of scoring a win against the empire and then coming face-to-face with his lordliness Darth Menace yet again. Maybe he didn’t eat enough, remembering with regret and sadness the nearly full platter of nachos left behind.
Finally, they made their way into the cool night air – just how long were they at this cantina, anyway? Han vowed it was midday when they found this place – and didn’t stop moving until they reached the Millennium Falcon.
Winded and breathless, they switched the old ship on and jumped into hyperspace before Vader or any of the imperials could figure out they were gone.
“Home sweet home,” Han chuckled, leaning back in the pilot’s seat. A hand came to rest over his heart, beating a bit too fast for his liking. “You didn’t expect that kind of action, did you, kid?”
Luke managed a small smile. He sat beside him looking pensive, and more than a little anxious. Chewie roared at them from the engine room, something about parts needing replacement.
“What is it?”
Bright blue eyes searched deep into his own brown ones. Luke picked at his fingernails nervously. “Did you hear anything…strange? At the cantina?”
Han shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Uh…what do you mean?” he asked, trying to sound relaxed and not at all alarmed. This wasn’t going to help his blood pressure.
“I don’t know…I thought I heard Vader call my name,” Luke said thoughtfully, glancing out of the viewport for a moment, then back at Han. “But that’s ridiculous, right?” he resolved, shaking his head. “It was probably just the sounds of people escaping. I mean, he doesn’t even know my name!”
Luke laughed heartily and Han had no choice but to join in. Because really, the alternative – that Vader knew the kid’s name and seemed concerned for his wellbeing – was too creepy to think about.
“Leia is so going to put us in time-out when she hears this story.”
Han could only nod his head in agreement.