Disclaimer: All Star Wars elements belong to George Lucas.

Note: Less description…more talk, and more action. That’s what I want to write this time around!

Ameliora

Chapter 15: Preparation

by ArchFaith

His head felt unbearably heavy, and his powers of vision and sound seemed to be corrupted; in a vain attempt to soothe his aching skull, he raised a dizzy hand to his forehead.

Luke…he must be…

He was gasping, trying to sit up as his exhausted fingers nearly slipped off his sweating face. His heart pounded with a quick uncertainty; oh yes, everything was going to be just fine, in the long run. Right…?

The world seemed to spin around him as he saw flashes of light in all directions, the only constant thing being the paralyzing spot where he lay, immobile save for his wandering thoughts.

We have to get to Coruscant as soon as…possible…

Horribly ill, as though he would vomit. He had not felt this physically sick in a long time—over twenty years, in fact. His machinery-ridden body had seen fit to eliminate all forms of human sickness from his system. Perhaps there had been some advantages to being more machine than man, after all…

Leia, he called weakly, knowing that she was near and yet unable to locate her precisely.

His arm descended down to his side as he squeezed his eyes shut, still breathing heavily. His entire body felt numb; he could barely move a few fingers as he felt the slow mist of unconsciousness begin to take control. He did not feel frightened; he knew that Leia was close by, somewhere. Strange, that it was she whom he had to rely on at the moment, when he had been so adamant about protecting her in the last few days. Nevertheless, he had a certain feeling that she was less inclined to give in to this…stupor…than he was…she had more experience in such things.

“You’ll be fine, Anakin,” a tired voice whispered, from somewhere near him. He had slowly descended down into the lumpy depths of the dirty mattress; he felt almost as though he would sink into oblivion as a stray hand gently brushed against his shoulder to give him a sloppy yet reassuring squeeze. He was barely able to catch the last syllable before succumbing to the darkness.

-

“Princess?!” he nearly screamed, bolting upright in the small, cramped bed. He was sweating profusely; water gathered in beads against his face as he clutched the dirty blue mattress with a sudden feeling of dread descending upon him. “Leia!”

A slight shifting noise from above him served to greatly calm his fears; in a moment the now-familiar face leaned over the side of the top bunk, brown eyes glistening in an annoyed yet quizzical manner. In the corner of the darkened, a few electronic beeps sounded from the shadows; Artoo turned his domed head towards the confused young man with a questioning response.

“What is it?” Leia asked with a yawn, squinting to see him through the darkness. Her coolness was evident even as she woke.

He was still panting; though he had dreamt of nothing that night, he still felt as though there had been reason for alarm. Taking a few moments to compose himself, he stared back up at her with a calmed expression upon his face. “Nothing,” he replied with a frown. “I just…I suppose I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Me? Alright?” she answered, a tired smile growing against her face. With a sigh, she pushed the loose brown strands of her hair away from her face. “What about you?”

“I’m fine,” he answered. In the corner of his mind, a tiny realization suddenly materialized; what started off as a small inkling now blossomed into a full-blown comprehension as he struggled to recall the events of the past night. “What happened to me last night?”

Leia grinned, a quick giggle emerging from her normally serious face. “For a former dark lord of the Sith, you sure are a lightweight.” She shifted restlessly, propping her face up with her hands as she rolled onto her stomach. “Just like Luke, I guess.”

He narrowed his eyes as he continued to look up at her, struggling to focus on her face. He felt sluggish and exhausted; bathed in sweat, he settled back down onto the bed, propping himself up with his arms. He felt as though he had been run through by a spaceship; his insides felt twisted and raw, and every small sound was amplified into a pounding headache. He felt the numbness in his legs, and it was all he could do to shift onto his side as he ran an exhausted hand through his wet hair.

Leia watched him, the smile slowly disappearing off her face. “You don’t look too well,” she commented, cocking her head.

“Obviously,” Anakin replied tersely, some of his old dark habits returning as he glared up at her.

“You’ve never had alcohol before?” Leia asked, quickly working to suppress her guilty amusement. Though there was a small part of her that felt sympathy for her father, the whole spectacle was indeed amusing. Anakin, in the brief time that she had known him had proven himself to be impulsive, fearless, and protective; though he had the knowledge of a much older man, his youthful exterior suggested that he still did not know much of a world beyond boredom and discipline. Much like Luke had been, she mused; looking down at Anakin’s exhausted body, she was suddenly reminded of Luke’s own prone form, lying face down on a bunk after the raucous celebration on Yavin IV, following the destruction of the first Death Star. Apparently there had never been any cause for Luke to celebrate back on the moisture farm; two small glasses of wine and he had called it a night. Han, on the other hand…

“Is it a surprise to you?” Anakin answered, his head sinking back down onto the lumpy pillow. “Jedi were not allowed to partake of any of these…entertainments.”

Leia nodded, propping her head up with her hands as Artoo gently shook back and forth on his stubby legs, apparently engaging in what could be considered a mechanical chuckle. The night before had been a successful outing; they had spoken with Dengar, and managed to secure a ride on his ship in exchange for a small part of their money. The rest of the night had been spent in the small, closet-like room off to the side of the cantina; the spiced wine was not exactly high end, but after all the obstacles and negotiations they had been through, it was good enough.

Spending time with Han had softened some of Leia’s reluctance to enjoy herself; she had sat through too many drinking sessions with the captain and his first mate to refuse a drink when stressful times came calling. To her mild surprise, Anakin elected to help her finish the bottles; in two hours’ time, she found herself nearly carrying him back to their dormitory, supporting his sluggish body against hers as they continued to speak in low tones.

Alcohol, as always, loosened one’s tongue considerably; for both, it had been the first in-depth conversation they had engaged in for quite some time. They had talked of many things, the contents of which seemed hazy to their still-recovering minds; politics, and the art of the ambassador; the concept of tyranny and the will of the ignorant masses; and, to her own mild surprise, their own experiences with love and emotion.

In all her life Leia had never known one with such a dual personality as Anakin Skywalker; as Darth Vader he had been cold and ruthless, the same man who had quietly stood behind her as her adopted planet had been blown into oblivion. Yet, as Anakin, her father—he was warm and amiable, if a bit impulsive. Though parts of his darkness remained, it seemed that the change in his appearance had brought back more than just a few buried sentiments.

Well? Did I know more about these things than you expected? came a suddenly intrusive thought. Anakin was sitting up now, and in one instant he swung his legs over the side of the mattress, planting his bare feet down upon the cold ground.

Sure, if you don’t count all the years you spent with that mask for company, Leia answered. Though the comment was meant to be serious, it sparked with it a rare moment of dark humor; the corners of Anakin’s mouth twitched as he unsuccessfully attempted to stand. He groaned, grinding his teeth together as he pushed himself off the bed; his mind, however, was apparently more attuned to his desires than his body was. In another instant he sank down again, a deadening exhaustion coming over him as he leaned back against the wall.

“So this is what alcohol does to one’s body,” he thought observantly as Leia swung her own legs down over the side of the tall bunk. “I feel so…”

“Hung over?” Leia finished, gracefully hopping down from her bed onto the floor. Frowning, she turned to him and sat down next to him on the lumpy sheets. “Give it a few hours and you’ll be fine.” She smiled in spite of the situation; seeing her father so vulnerable and fatigued, she felt as though it was she who should protect him, for the time being.

“You should not have—“

“Don’t blame me. You should have known when to quit it.”

“How could I have known? I’ve never had alcohol before.”

“So then maybe you never should have started.”

Anakin sighed, but worked to suppress a tired grin as he looked at Leia’s annoyed face. “You sound very much like your mother, Princess.”

This sudden inference quickly softened her emotions; cocking her head to one side, she crossed her arms over her chest as she looked over to the wall next to Artoo, in an attempt to hide her slight embarrassment. The packs they had hauled from the destroyed shuttle were propped up against the grainy, peeling corner. “You need something to eat,” she said reflectively. “I think we might have some rations left.”

Anakin sank back down onto the bed, squeezing his eyes shut as Leia advanced towards the packs they had piled into a corner of the room. In an attempt to soothe him, Artoo rolled up to the bed and beeped emphatically; though the droid did not exactly know the effects of alcohol on a human mind, he did know that the repercussions could be extremely painful for humans. Anakin reached out a tired hand, and fondly patted Artoo’s domed head as Leia came towards him, a metal canister clutched in her fingers.

“They’re stale, but they’ll do,” she said, handing it to him as she settled at the foot of his bed. “We still have plenty of time before we have to meet with Dengar, so you can sober up before then.”

“Good,” Anakin said briefly, opening the metal container with some discouragement. A pile of crumbled biscuits lay at the bottom of the canister—reaching it, he drew out a scant handful as he labored to speak. “Then we can finally send Luke a transmission and let him know we’re alright.”

His statement was corroborated by Artoo’s enthusiastic beeps; Leia cocked her head and smiled as the small robot gently shook back and forth with anticipation. Luke and Artoo had always had a bond together; since helping Luke to destroy the Death Star, the droid had felt a close attachment to the blonde farmboy from Tatooine.

“Can we skip the part where I accidentally shoot you?” Leia asked grimly, settling back against the wall as Anakin shifted the bread crumbs around in his hand.

Despite his headache, the Jedi looked back at her with an amused glance. “We could leave that part out,” he said reflectively as he put the crumb-filled container down onto the floor. “Still, he’s going to be more than a bit surprised.”

Leia shook her head in doubt. “I’m sure he’s found a way to keep himself occupied.”

-

She dreamt of him once again, as she had seen him last; his shoulder-length hair streaked with sweat, his wild eyes full of anger and contempt as she pulled away from him, the red in his pupils only amplified by the lava and magma that bubbled all around them.

Anakin, please…Ani…

A sudden electronic chirp awakened her from her heavy slumber; in an instant she was sitting up in bed, weakly propping herself up with her hands as the light violet nightgown clung against her bare shoulder. “Arfour?” she asked, still half-asleep, her mind still dancing with visions of the clashing of the lightsabers, the flow of the fiery lake. “What…”

I no longer have to wait and hope, she thought reflectively, her consciousness returning to her as she gazed expectantly towards the small droid stationed in the corner of her old bedroom. Anakin will be with us soon.

Still, the cloud of doubt and worry surrounded her troubled head like a dark halo; though she did not doubt everything Luke told her, the fact that Anakin was now three days late from their agreed meeting time did nothing to calm her nerves.

The small droid’s emergency light had now activated; in the darkness of the room he stuck out his mechanical third leg and slowly wheeled towards her, a series of low beeps and whistles punctuating the stillness of the night. It was not the first time an astromech droid had watched over her in this way; the last she could remember, it had been Artoo Detoo who had done the honors. Still, Artoo’s sensitive scanning devices had failed to detect the cybernetic insects Zam Wessell had sent to dispatch her; Anakin had swiftly taken care of that.

“What is it?” she asked gently, cocking her head as the droid came closer to her bed, still emitting a series of electronic noises. A small slip of paper emerged from a side slot near the dome; reaching out, Padmé gracefully took the sheet into her fingers; frowning as she turned it over in the dark room.

“Arfour, what—“

The door to her room suddenly slid open; in what seemed like a fraction of a second Luke was standing by her bed, his right hand clutching the newly-rediscovered lightsaber that had been bequeathed to Padmé by Obi-Wan. “Are you alright?” he asked breathlessly, sinking down onto her bed; his blonde hair was tousled from sleep, and the undershirt he wore clung to his slender body as he knit his eyebrows in confusion. “I heard Arfour...”

“I’m fine,” she answered, looking back to him. She held the small paper up in her fingers with a serious look upon her face. “This is what Arfour was trying to say.”

Luke took the small slip, his eyes dancing over the still-wet print as he turned to glance at his mother. “A transmission…from the Hoth system,” he said quickly, his heart suddenly growing tight in his chest as he threw a quick look at the droid.

For one quick second, mother and son looked at one another with an excited yet inhibited air; though both were extremely relieved to finally hear some word from Anakin, several mixed feelings rose to the surface. Crumpling the slip of paper between his hands, Luke frowned to himself as he knelt down next to the small droid. You’d better have one hell of an explanation, Anakin, he thought angrily as he opened Arfour’s concealed transmission panel. Unless taking a detour to Hoth was something I missed in the plan. Anxiously he waited as the droid’s innards started to buzz, waiting as the transmission was received from its far away origin.

Padmé absently bit her lip, gathering the heavy blankets to her as she watched Luke flip several small switches inside the droid’s panel. Part of her was alert and waiting; anxious to hear from her husband, longing to hear his calming voice after years of imprisonment within the carbonite. Still—the other part of her was reluctant and almost repulsed. Even though Luke had been deliberately scant on details about Anakin’s life as Darth Vader, she could surmise what kind of terror he had caused—what kind of destruction he had wrought. One with so much hatred—so much anger—as the Anakin she had known could not have left the galaxy unscathed while she slumbered in her stone tomb. Palpatine would not have allowed him to become soft once his soul had hardened, become impenetrable…

A long interlude of loud static now emerged from the small speaker on Arfour’s dome; leaning back, Luke slowly climbed back onto Padmé’s bed, putting his hand on his mother’s trembling shoulder as a snippet of sound emerged.

“Luke…” came a whispered syllable, from amidst the loud hum of static. “I—much time—“

Though the voice was partially obscured by the atmospheric noises, the tone was unmistakable—Anakin’s voice. Padmé felt her body stiffen; she quickly placed a hand against Luke’s own, and he put an arm around her shoulder in an attempt to calm her as the message continued.

“Listen…have time to explain…an explosion aboard….Endor. We crashed on Hoth…

I managed…Echo…”

Luke frowned; Anakin’s transmission had clearly been affected by the long distance it had traveled to reach Coruscant. He silently strained his ears, narrowing his eyes as he struggled to understand what his father was trying to communicate. The long pauses and static noises did not alleviate the situation, either; even when the static cleared and Anakin’s voice filtered out loud and strong, it was still muffled and warped.

“…found a pilot …myself and Artoo...far as Naboo. Our funds are low…listen closely…Lake Retreat…they will know…care, son.”

The voice dissipated back into the dome, leaving a small trace of static behind before the message completely evaporated. Luke shook his head in frustration, sighing as he looked to his mother. “It’s almost completely destroyed,” he said softly. “So he ended up on Hoth…he’s going to have to tell me about that one.” A small part of him refused to believe that one man, no matter how powerful a Jedi he may be, could have survived the barren wastelands of Hoth; yet, Luke reminded himself, this was Anakin they were talking about—Anakin, who had survived the lava flows of Mustafar in his former quest of hatred. Surviving Hoth was probably akin to a padawan’s obstacle course for a dark lord of the Sith.

Padmé, however, did not seem to be listening. She started blankly at the dome, into the small slot where the message had filtered out. Her heart beat rapidly within her chest; merely hearing his voice, hearing the tones that were no longer tinged with evil as they had been so many years ago…

She gave Luke’s hand a tight squeeze, and smiled softly as she turned her head. “Your father often finds himself in these situations,” she said, her smile breaking into a grin. “I’m sure you follow in his footsteps.” She turned back to Arfour, who was now staring inquisitively at mother and son. “I know the place he spoke about,” she continued. “The Lake Retreat on Naboo. My family owns it—or used to own it. I don’t know anymore.” She stood up, her hand still clasped around Luke’s fingers as she beckoned for him to stand. “But I am sure it still exists. We have to leave, Luke. We must get to Naboo as quickly as possible.”

“We can’t just leave right away,” Luke protested, his eyes widening. “Padmé, this is dangerous. If word were to get out that were still alive, you would be captured by the Imperial remnants. Not to mention that I’m not the most popular Rebel in Coruscant right now.” He stood up, shaking his head as he stared past her, towards the darkened skyscrapers that lay far beyond the reach of the large viewing window. “We have to have some sort of plan to get out of here.”

As much as she would have liked to argue with him, he was right. It would be quite foolhardy of them to try and to get to Naboo without a failsafe plan that would save them from discovery. Her sudden impulsiveness dying down, she quickly let go of Luke’s hand, folding her arms over her chest as her mind raced with possibility.

“What do you propose we do?” she said, after a few moments’ pause.

“That’s a good question,” her son replied, furrowing his brows as he turned back to look at her. All these schemes and plans; since rescuing Anakin from the Death Star, his whole life has been based around carefully crafting lies and secrets. Still—it was better to throw himself wholeheartedly into a cause than to only half-care for it. He would already be branded a traitor if the rest of the Alliance found out about all his doings, the most offensive being the help he had given to the very same man who had ordered the destruction of so many innocent lives. And he was sure that Leia would never forgive him for the lies he had told her, though he was not quite sure how Padmé would factor into the situation when—if—he would ever be able to introduce her to Leia. There was no doubt in his mind that Leia and Padmé would eventually meet; still, there was no telling how Leia would initially react once he told her that Anakin—Vader—lived.

“We could hire a private craft,” Padmé whispered reflectively, cutting into his thoughts. “I’m sure plenty of transports would be willing to take us. The route from Coruscant to Naboo is well-traveled by politicians and tourists.”

“That’s always a possibility,” Luke answered absently, staring once again out into the darkened landscape of the city. If he had been alone, with no other way of getting offplanet, he would have taken his chances right away; alone, with no one other than himself to protect, he would have been fine being attacked by hostile Imperials or bounty hunters. Despite his scant time with Yoda, his true abilities as a Jedi had shone through, and he had proven himself more than capable of putting up a worthy fight. But still—with the responsibility of protecting Padmé on his hands, he could not put himself into a bad situation. She was still weak from the carbonite, and recovering from the effects of hibernation sickness. Strenuous activity was quite out of the question—and if they took any risks getting to Naboo, she would prove to be essential deadweight in a battle.

“There has to be some other way,” he whispered to himself, as Padmé cocked her head in thought. Though she did not reply, she too shared his sentiments; inwardly, she cursed herself for being so useless in such a time of crucial importance. Though she had been well-trained in the arts of defense, the battleground was not her field; all her victories and triumphs had been earned in the throne room of Theed, or the chamber of the Galactic Senate. Though she enjoyed the various romps with Obi-Wan and Anakin and the adventures they shared together, she felt that her true place—the only place in which she really felt comfortable—was on the side of democracy, arguing her positions with words instead of a blaster.

Caught in a silent reverie, they stood quietly for a few moments, both with eyes averted to the floor. Arfour, in seeming confusion, emitted a few gentle beeps; he had wondered what sort of message he was relaying, but now seemed downfallen at the sudden change in tone it had brought his masters.

A quick, sudden thought came to Luke’s mind as he weighed the options now open to them. He could never allow his mother to be transported on a craft where they could be discovered and captured; his protective instincts gently took hold of them, and he silently resolved that he would never let harm befall Padmé as long as she traveled with him. This left the question of who exactly they could trust; in the dark streets of CoCo City, there were not many honest souls willing to step forward. No, there was only one other person in the world besides Leia whom Luke could trust with the life of his mother. And seeing as how Leia was unaware of anything that had been going on, there was only one guess as to who it could be.

“I know a way,” he said quickly, shifting his eyes to Arfour. “Arfour, get me a signal. Tap into a feed from Endor, on the Alliance lines.”

Padmé frowned as Luke strode forward to place his hand the droid’s now-swiveling dome. “What is it? What are we going to do?”

“I know a ship that can make the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs,” Luke said, a slight smile dawning on his face. “The captain’s an old friend of mine; he’s gotten us through a lot of scrapes.”

“Are you sure we can trust this…captain?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she looked down at Arfour.

“I’d trust him with my life,” Luke replied, tapping the droid’s head once again. “And besides…he knows a little bit about being stuck in carbonite himself.”

-

“Yo! You coming, or what?”

Han slightly raised his head, dark blonde strands brushing against the exposed wires of the still-damaged dashboard; using his arms as support, he had successfully overslept once again. Running his hand through his unkempt, he briefly glanced at the time sensor and scowled in frustration.

“I told ya, I’m tired! I ain’t hungry, so get going!”

He could hear Lando’s voice chuckling from the corridor of the Falcon. “That woman’s gonna starve you to death. Fine, I’ll bring back something for you in a bit. C’mon, Chewie, this boy is too lovesick to make any sense.”

“Shut up!” he thundered as another chuckle emanated from down the hallway. Sinking his head back down into his arms, he heard a concerned, hesitant growl from Chewbacca as the tall Wookiee paused in the entranceway of the cockpit. “I’m fine, okay?” he said in exasperation. “Just give me some time to myself for a bit. Bring me back some booze, or something.” Chewbacca shuffled uncomfortably in the doorway; at times like these, Han knew himself best. Letting out a concerned growl, the Wookiee briefly placed a hairy paw against Han’s tousled hair, smoothing the blonde strands back against his neck. This was all; in the next moment Chewbacca had disappeared, following after Lando down to dinner at the cooking station.

The great Han Solo, reduced to an angry mass of being. It had been days since he’d listened to Leia’s mysterious message; there had been no sign of her since. As per Leia’s instructions, however, he had not reported her missing to the Alliance; besides, they would never possibly believe it even if he did report it. Leia was a woman of reason and intelligence; she was the last person in the galaxy to launch an impulsive ambush on a man she had no reason to suspect. What was worse was the fact that it seemed other factors were present in the situation; what kind of emotions did Leia hold for that Naberrie character, anyway?

The wait for news was nerve-wracking; what was more, he himself couldn’t believe that he was so desperate to hear from her. He had spent the last few days practically living in the cockpit, desperately tracking all the small crafts that had taken off from Endor Base within the last week. He had located what he thought was Naberrie’s shuttle—a thermal detonator transporter—but it had quietly disappeared off the charts without being noted by the Alliance.

He slept well enough, but after a few hours would listlessly return to the captain’s seat, tired eyes still on the lookout for any new developments. Lando would tease him to no end; Chewbacca merely sighed in frustration at seeing him so distraught. And Threepio, ever the annoyance, continued to bumble around the Falcon, picking out every little mistake and oversight that the team had made in their repairs.

Delightful.

A sudden sound from the dashboard interrupted his half-slumber; one of the main transmission links suddenly flashed red, blinking under his hand as he raised his head in a quick excitement. In an instant he pushed it; an electronic voice began. “Incoming…a transmission originating from Cor—“

“God, get on with it!” Han yelled, pushing the button in exasperation. The voice stopped and was quickly replaced with a very familiar tone, much warmer than the electronic voice’s icy accents.

“Han? Han, old buddy, do you read me?”

“Luke?” he whispered, relieved yet crestfallen at the same time. As much as he loved the younger man, Luke was not the person he needed to hear at the moment. “What’re ya doing on Coruscant? Thought you were on your way to Tatooine.”

“Things…came up,” Luke replied, voice crackling as the transmission grew slightly faint. “Listen—I need you to do something important for me.”

“Important?!” Han bellowed, nearly rising out of his seat. His frustration had grown to dangerous levels; not only was he nearly out of his mind looking for Leia, he was now being asked to do some errand that he knew almost nothing about. Did that carbonite make me slow or something? he asked himself as his eyes narrowed in anger. “Next thing you’ll be telling me is that you were in on Leia’s plan to sneak aboard Naberrie’s shuttle.”

“What?” the voice immediately responded, in genuine surprise. “What are you talking about?”

Han sighed in frustration. “Look, let me just get one thing straight to you. I ain’t movin’ unless you tell me what’s going on around here. You and I have been from one end of the galaxy to the other; I know you by now. Everyone’s have been sneaking around and I don’t appreciate being in the dark. You of all people should know that.”

There was a momentary pause on the line; in an instant, Luke’s voice filtered back into the transmission. “Alright, Han,” it said slowly. “You do deserve to know.”

“Well thank you, Mister Jedi,” Han whispered mockingly. “So tell me…did Vader really die in that explosion, or what?”

-

To be continued.

Next chapter: Anakin and Leia get aboard Dengar’s transport to witness and encounter a slightly strange face; meanwhile, Han’s nerves are pushed to the limit as he realizes what exactly everyone (and I mean everyone!) has been hiding from him as Padmé and Luke prepare to leave Coruscant. Stay tuned!

I’M BAAAAACK! I truly apologize for the length of time it look to deliver Chapter 15 of Ameliora. My explanation? I wasn’t in the “mood”. I’ve been a Star Wars fan for eleven years now, and my “mood” goes back and forth from “OMG hardcore Jedi!” to “um…Star Wars, I like that”. By the time I finished Chapter 14, I was slipping back into a neutral fan mood, and decided that I should wait until I’m back into hardcore mode before writing again. I used to be afraid that I would stop liking Star Wars (gasp!) but it’s been eleven years. It’s here to stay.

That said, I hope you all liked this very long Chapter 15! I wanted to add some comedic elements into the story, like Anakin being hungover and Han being all worried and paranoid. Hopefully I succeeded, and things are shaping up well for our characters to soon cross paths…whether they do so in one piece remains to be seen. Anyway, I would ask you to please review my story; I love hearing people’s input about what they’ve just read, and I also love hearing plot suggestions that could be worked into the story. The plot of my fanfic is not set in stone, and I’ve heard a lot of helpful comments that I’ve taken to heart and decided to work with. Help me out and review guys!

elven-cat2: Thank you for your input! Yeah, looking back on it, Padmé and Luke going back to Padmé’s apartment was a bit contrived; fortunately, they’ll be leaving it soon. As for the thermal detonator, well…that will have to wait for a bit, hehehe.

ILDV: Another new chappie right here too!

SkyBlueSw: Well, they’re all moving towards each other now…

x Rajah x: Haha I had a crush on Luke when I was ten years old. At that point, he was a “big boy” for me. Now I’m older than he is when the Original Trilogy starts. Wow, eleven years gone by already?!

Charlie Hayden: Patience my friend…you’ll find out who the other hunter is soon enough! Also, Obi-Wan does not give Padmé Anakin’s lightsaber (as you pointed out, he already gave it to Luke in ANH and Luke loses it in ESB). Rather, he gives Padmé a brand new lightsaber.

The Chaotic Soul of Demons: Yes, poor droids! I think the next chapter should have some Threepio action!

XXX: Me? A Sithlord? No, a Sith Lady! Glad you liked the idea of Padmé’s apartment!

VFSNAKE: You shall have to wait, my friend! As for Anakin, when he finds out Padmé is alive it will be glorious and horrible and hard for me to write!

SOONsoonSOON: Nope, the lightsaber is a new one Obi-Wan left for Padmé to use. Mysteries abound!

Second-Last Herald-Mage: Boba Fett? Intriguing possibility…

DanaeMariSkywalker: Yay, someone knows Dengar! I was beginning to think I was going into the EU too much and I sort of want to stick to the movies. Also, Luke doesn’t have his green lightsaber anymore because he threw it away on the second Death Star, remember? So in my fic he only has one.

Sentrosi: Oh my, Christian camp! Sounds...merciful.

TheSummoningDark: You’ll just have to wait and see!

carmsfic: I know this didn’t come very fast, but hopefully you still liked it!

Alien Roxi: Yeah…it’s been way too long since I updated. But I hope you liked this chapter and everything else I threw in!

Yashida: Thank you, I hope you liked this new chapter!

Krimzonrayne: Yeek! So, do you have any suggestions for what I could improve on? Sentence structure, details, etc? I’m glad you liked my story, but if something is not right with it, please help me figure out how to make it even better.

WeJm18: Soon enough for you?

dragonflysky: Is it?

Code name: Anrui Yuy: Ah, I’m so glad you like my story! I always like hearing people’s opinions about it, and it really encourages me that you think I pulled off the corny regeneration machine storyline. As for Watto…well, someone familiar was needed in order for Luke to find Padmé in carbonite. As much as I hate him, I didn’t want some random original character doing the honors.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! All your input really encourages me and helps me recognize what kind of fanfic I want to envision. To everyone who didn’t review, please do! Even a one word answer helps me tweak this story in the right direction. As for the next chapter…it’ll be up when it’s up (but it WILL be up). Feel the Force guys!!