Title: The This, the That, and the Other

Disclaimer: No matter how much I would love to keep Luke in my house
attending to my every whim, I claim no ownership of him nor any of the
Star Wars Universe. That honor goes to George Lucas, and for the
purposes of my story, Timothy Zahn. I am gaining nothing from this
story except pure delight in the characters. Thanks for the loaner,
George.

Rating: PG. (for now)

Authors note: This is the prologue to a story I have been outlining for
awhile now. First of all, let me state that I am not a big fan of the
EU as it progressed after Zahn's first trilogy. I hold the belief that
he meant for Luke and Mara to begin their journey towards each other
from that moment on the rooftop. So, that is what I intend to do. In
my own personal Star Wars Universe everything that happened after the
Thrawn trilogy is non existent. There is no Jedi Academy, no KJA or
Callista, Akanah, and so forth in my fic. I suppose what I am trying to
say in a very long winded round about way is that this is an AU fic.
Please let me know what you honestly think before I begin putting the
finish work on the chapters. And last but not least, many thanks to
Kathryn for the Beta treatment and for her opinion that people would
want to read this.

The outer rim
8 years after ANH

The star lines flew by the vastness of space and reflected in the large
brown eyes of the not so young man at the helm of the small freighter.
It had been long, much too long, he thought, since he had seen the
inside of a ship and felt the heady buzz he always received from space
travel. Despite the mundane nature of their flight, the feeling of
freedom was not lost on the ship's pilot and he could tell that the
other occupant of the small ship felt the same. Still, the thought that
things were not right found a small corner in the back of his brain and
would not let up. No matter how thrilling the present moment in space
might be, he somehow knew it would be short lived.

It had been 5 cycles since the last transport. Luckily they had been
prepared with more than enough supplies to last at least 7 cycles, but
the knowledge that something had gone wrong with the war was ever
present in the minds of the compound's leaders. It would be unwise to
wait until their supplies had run out before investigating the matter.
Besides, he knew that a few of the compound's inhabitants were much too
important to be forgotten. Vader himself had seen to it that they were
to be taken care of properly. Why would he go to that much trouble to
simply forget about them now? It didn't make sense, thought DeLor.

"Sir? Captain DeLor, sir."

The nervous sound of his young co pilot's voice brought DeLor out of his
rumination quickly.

"Are you ready to bring us out of hyperspace, Mr. Styles?"

"Yes, sir," came the quiet reply. DeLor knew that he was nervous as to
what they might find as soon as they dropped back into real space. The
lack of communication from the Empire was worrisome to them all, but
jumping to conclusions was not going to get them anywhere.

"Very good, Styles. See to it then."

The nagging feeling that had been safely stored in the back of DeLor's
brain began to make it's way to the forefront as Styles pulled back on
the lever that would propel them out of hyperspace and into whatever was
waiting for them.

The sound of the engines changed with the momentum of the ship. Once
again DeLor found himself caught up in the euphoria of space travel
regardless of what lie ahead. All too soon, the star lines vanished and
were replaced with distant pinpoints of light, real space.

"Report Mr. Styles," DeLor asked cautiously. "Anything on the
monitors?"

"Negative, Sir, there's nothing here."

"Well check the coordinates again, Mr. Styles."

"I've double checked and checked again, Sir. It's gone." DeLor noted
that the slight nervousness of his co pilot's voice from before had
grown to full blown terror.

"Keep your wits, Styles. It'll do us no good to lose control before we
know what's going on." He hoped that he had been successful in keeping
his own voice in check. Letting the younger man know his fear was
rising as well would only make matters worse. But, the urge to panic
was rising as each moment made their future look bleaker. An entire
base vanishing into thin air, how was it possible? Even as he thought
it, he knew the answer, as did the man sitting to his left. The Rebels
had not only destroyed the base, but it had been some time since its
demise. There was no other explanation for the lack of debris.

"What should we do now, Captain?"

"Scan the area, see if there is anything within range," DeLor paused
before continuing his thought, "Maybe there's a chance there are some
friendly faces still around. If not, we'll high tail it out of here and
make the jump to light speed."

"Heading for home, sir?"

"For now. We still have enough supplies for two more cycles. At least
it will buy us some time." DeLor tried to pretend he didn't see the
worried look on his co pilot's face as he spoke. He also knew what the
implications of his last statement were. The Empire was not in a
position to help them. It was up to them and them alone to protect the
compound. It was a task he had taken on personally as requested by Lord
Vader and he knew what the consequences would be if he failed.

"Sir! I have something straight ahead and gaining."

"What is it, Styles?"

All of a sudden the color drained from Styles' face. It was as if he
was looking into the face of his own death, thought DeLor grimly.

"A fleet, sir, at least twenty of them," the pause before he continued
made the air in the small cabin feel even more claustrophobic and when
he continued, DeLor, too, stared into the face of what he knew would be
his end. "X wing class, sir. Rebels." he finished.

"How long will it take us to make the jump to hyperspace?"

"There's no time, sir, they're gaining too fast. It won't be possible
to defend ourselves against them, we haven't the firepower."

With a finality he had been primed to face, Delor prepared for what he
knew was their only alternative. It was better to dye a hero than to
fail Lord Vader and die in shame at his hands, or worse yet, to be
captured by the Rebels.

"Prepare the ship, Mr. Styles. Thirty second countdown if you please."

"Self destruct? Why sir? Surely there must be some other way"

"You heard me, Styles, if the Rebels get a hold of this ship they will
be able to trace our course back to Madronas. We must protect the
compound at all costs, that is our mission first and foremost."

"Should I prepare the escape pods, sir?"

"Do you think yourself a coward, Mr. Styles?"

"N..n..no, Sir, I just thought..."

"You thought what, young man? That we would do our duty by jumping into
the hands of the Rebels? If that is what you want than I suggest you
hop out of the air lock. If you have no further complaints, I suggest
you keep to following my orders." Another time he would have felt it
beneath him to yell at a subordinate. Unlike most Imperials, he felt
they deserved to be treated with respect. But now was not the time to
be worried about the camaraderie aboard his ship. Taking a deep almost
calming breath, DeLor continued. "Now, Mr. Styles, prepare the ship.
We have a date with destiny."

"Aye, Sir. 30 second countdown beginning now." The fear in the young
man's voice was quickly drowned out by the cold mechanical voice of the
computer as it began its fatal order.

The rattle of the ship as she readied to take her last breath was
somewhat awe inspiring, thought DeLor. If one's life was supposed to
flash before them as death approached, all he could think of was that at
least he was going to die defending his post. It was an oath he had
taken with the utmost courage and responsibility. But, the thought that
filled his head at the very end was that he was meeting his end as the
stars smiled upon him, in the vast reaches of space and not that
godforsaken compound he was sworn to protect.

***

"What do you think, Rogue leader?" Came the muffled voice over Wedge's
com. He took a moment to consider what he had just seen. The ship had
looked old yet there had been no distress signal before the explosion
and no answer to their hails. There had to be more to this than met the
eye.

"I am not detecting any life forms," came Wedge's reply, "But the ship
still seems to be somewhat in tact. I'm going to make a sweep around it
and see if I can gauge the damage and see if there are any markings."

"Aye aye, Rogue leader. It looks to me as if much of the damage is
centered around the engine core. Do you think it was a breech of some
sort?"

"That's what I aim to find out, Rogue 5." Wedge made his way around the
broken ship surveying what was left of her. "Judging from the damage, I
don't think she'll hold together for a hyperspace flight. It looks like
we'll have to take her to the nearest NR base. The closest base is
Grinin, I'll contact them and let them know we need a secure bay. I
don't see any ominous markings on her, but let's take care until we know
what we're dealing with. Okay, Rogues, let's prepare to tow her in."

As Rogue Squadron readied the ship for transport, Wedge let his mind go
over the possibilities for the ship's destruction. A breech was possible
he knew, but this appeared to be more than that. It seemed to be too
much of a coincidence for it to happen right when they made their
approach.

It hung there, floating eerily in slow arching circles, a lifeless tomb
for whomever had been at her helm. This was no breech, Wedge knew that
in his gut and he had been doing this long enough to know that a gut
feeling shouldn't be ignored. The ship had purposely blown and whatever
secrets she held were hopefully still there among the remnants of the
now dead ship.

To be continued......