*****
Final Jump
c 2000 Angelia Sparrow
*****
 
 
 
 

Coruscant, jewel of the New Republic, glimmered
in the eternal night of space.  And the rebuilt
Jedi Temple, jewel of Coruscant, basked in the
light of its primary.

In a quiet garden, an old man sat meditating.  The dark
brown robes absorbed the sun, warming his ancient bones
with the remembered heat of his twin-sunned homeworld.

"Master Skywalker?"  The hesitant voice was heavy with
emotion.  One simply did not approach a legend for
trivial reasons.

He raised his head and looked at the young woman.
"Yes, Padawan?"

"Your sister has sent for you, Master.  It is time.  The shuttle
awaits at landing pad 3."

He rose slowly, leaning on the staff he had begun carrying
some years before.   A faint memory of his own master,
Yoda, chewing on the end of his gimer stick, came to mind,
and he smiled.  He wasn't that far gone yet.  "Thank you,
Padawan.  Is there anything else?"

"Master Anakin says I am to accompany you."

"My nephew believes I am senile."  Luke smiled at her.
"I keep reminding him that my master was 900 years old,
rather than my mere 90.  But, it amuses me to let him believe it.
And he lets me meditate in the sunshine more often,
not troubling me with Council business."

Landing pad 3 was the closest to the gardens.  The middle-aged
woman at the controls greeted her uncle fondly, made
sure he was quite comfortable and flew far more gently
than her reputation warrented.

The villa was set on one of the few estates on Coruscant.
Rolling lawns and a small wood surrounded it.  The large
lake had been put in at Han's insistence.  They had sailed on it
many times over the years.  Luke had never been quite
comfortable on the large body of water, but had never
passed up a chance to join his brother-in-law on the
sailboat.  It was the one place that they could both
shrug off the Heroes of The Galaxy roles others
forced them into and be themselves for a time.

Jayna landed the shuttle, and Jace and his oldest son
came out to greet them.  The boy looked like the grandfather
he was named for, forcibly reminding Luke of the long-ago
meeting.  He was just about the same age as Han had been.
*And I was even younger* Luke thought.

"Mother is waiting for you in the dayroom," was all his nephew said.

Leia sat in the solarium, her snow-white hair
braided into a coronet atop her head, her dark eyes
watchful and sad.  Chewbacca stood behind her,
his glossy pelt silvered with age.  He barked a
mournful greeting.  Leia inclined her head to her brother,
and he stooped to kiss her cheek.

"How is he?" Luke asked.

"Asleep.  He was asking for you earlier.  He should
wake soon."  A faint beep from the monitor on the
small table alerted her that he had.  "Go in.  We've
said our farewells."

"Hey, kid," came the weak hail from the oversized bed.

"Hardly a kid at my age," Luke smiled, sitting in
the nearby chair.

"Yeah, who'd have thought: me, dyin' in bed,
on the upside of a hundred years old?  Kids
and grandkids and great-grandkids everywhere."
The voice was weak, but still sharp.  "It's been
a good time, Luke."

"Yes.  It has."

"I just wish..."

"What?"

"I wish I could take the Falcon up once more.
Chewie beside me, you sitting in the nav seat,
Leia at the com board.  Like we used to ship.
That's where I'd rather make the Final Jump,
not here."

"I know."  The smile was genuine.

Han managed to prop up on an elbow, turning
sightless eyes toward his oldest friend.  His vision,
never the same after the hibernation sickness,
had gone completely three years before, but his
ears were as sharp as ever.

"Mostly, I wish I could see you right now.
You sound creakier than old Kenobi, but
in my mind you look like you did back on Tatooine."

"I know.  I got a bit of a shock this afternoon
from your grandson.  He looks just like you.  Or at
least how I think of you looking.  Put him in a white
shirt and black vest..."

"Nice to know there's still a Han Solo in the
galaxy, eh?  His wife is threatening to name
their first son after me, too.  Not quite ready to
punch out, yet, but soon."  Han reached up his left
hand and Luke took it in his own natural hand
without a second thought.  "I'm so far ahead of
the game, I think I won."

Luke chuckled, a dry papery sound in the
still afternoon.  "I should think so.
You married a princess, founded the Republic,
and fathered the head of the Jedi Council.
Not bad work for a small-time smuggler."

"I'd never have done it if not for you."

"Now that's not--"

The blank hazel eyes narrowed.  "I thought Jedi
didn't lie.  It's the truth and you know it.  I'd
be long dead today, instead of just dyin'."

"Han--"

"Don't make me use up what little I've got left
arguing with you, kid."  The emphasis was heavy
on the old nickname.  He paused, gathering
his nerve.  "I love you.  I wish I
said that about seventy years ago."

Luke swallowed hard.  "I wish you had, too.
I've always loved you.  You've been the
one constant in my life."

Han wheezed a chuckle at that.  His hand
was growing cooler by the second.  "Imagine
me, a constant."  He lay back, his breathing irregular.
"Coordinates are set.  Time to punch it."  His
free right hand reached for the hyperdrive levers
that only he could see.

Luke leaned over, and barely brushed Han's lips with
his own.  "Clear skies."

The last warmth left the old spacer's hand,
and Luke folded his arms on his chest, and pulled
the sheet over the still face.  Then he went to
the solarium where his sister and her family waited.