Meetings

                                By Moriah Organa

                                Summary: Luke meets somebody who will be important to his future.
                                Disclaimer: Setting, situations and the characters of Luke Skywalker and Wedge Antilles are
                                the property of George Lucas, no infringment of his rights intended.
 

                                Something wheeped past Luke's ear. Instinctively he hit dirt, rolling into the shelter of a
                                convenient doorway before looking over his shoulder.

                                A tailess reptiloid lay huddled in the middle of the alley. The glittering point of a Ceetal dark
                                centered neatly between its eyes. A pistol of unfamiliar form lay near its half open hand.

                                "He was about to put a needle in your back." a deep soft voice explained.

                                Luke jerked his head around and saw who'd thrown the dart.

                                A big man, not quite two meters but close, broad shoulders and muscular arms set off by a
                                sleeveless wrap shirt with a spacer's vest over it and leather armbands and wrist guards.
                                His long dark mane was tied back from a broad face with bumpy leonine profile and short
                                beard.

                                He nodded towards the dead assassin. "Anybody you know?"

                                Straightening from his crouch Luke moved closer for a look, shook his head. "Never saw him
                                before."

                                "Amateurs don't carry that kind of weapon." his rescuer warned. "Looks like you've managed
                                to attract professional attention, my young friend"

                                Damn. He'd been made then, there could be no other explanation. Luke looked uncertainly at
                                the man who'd saved him. A typical gypsy spacer except he wore no gun. Dispite the other's
                                size and evident lethality Luke didn't feel at all threatened, or even intimidated.

                                "I'd watch my back if I were you." the other continued. "Better still, get somebody else to
                                watch it for you."

                                "Like you?" Luke heard himself say.

                                Eyebrows rose slightly, a smile warming the deepset eyes. "I might be open to an offer." He
                                held out a large square hand. "Deak Sojourner."

                                "Luke Sk - uh - Vaygan."

                                Deak courteously pretended not to notice the near slip.

                                Of course Wedge went ballistic. "Are you crazy, Luke!? You don't know anything about this
                                guy -"

                                "I know he saved my life. And - I've got a feeling about him...." his voice trailed off. It had been
                                over a year since the Death Star, since Ben's death. There'd been so much else to do and
                                learn he'd all but forgotten those few lessons in the Force. But his feelings were strong and
                                clear. Deak was somebody he could trust.

                                "You got a feeling!" Wedge obviously didn't share his confidence. "Luke, this screams of set
                                up!"

                                Maybe. But Luke knew it wasn't. "Either way I've been made. I want you and the others to
                                stay clear of me."

                                "But -"

                                "That's an order, Wedge. The mission comes first. This could be an advantage, I can be a
                                diversion for the rest of you." he switched off before his second could argue further.

                                Halfway into his cover story Luke stopped, looked at his audience, sitting relaxed and serene
                                across the cantina table. "You're not buying a word of this are you?

                                The smile in Deak's eyes spread to his mouth. "No need to tell me anything you don't want to.
                                All I need to know is what you're going to do now."

                                Luke blinked a little. Deak's attitude indicated either great trust, indifference - or that he already
                                knew a lot more than Luke thought. Still his instincts insisted Deak could be trusted so:
                                "Hopefully I'm the only one who's been spotted. I want to keep it that way. Make 'em focus on
                                me and miss the others."

                                "So the idea is to be noticed?"

                                "Exactly. I want to worry them."

                                "Without getting killed in the process."

                                "That's where you come in." Luke found himself grining for no apparent reason, made himself
                                stop. The real mission was to secure new sources of supply; food, medicines, parts, that kind
                                of thing. So it would be a good idea to go after something more sinister..."You wouldn't
                                happen to know where the local black market for weapons is, would you?"

                                Somehow he wasn't at all surprised when Deak said yes.

                                Luke tried to stroll casually down the noisome little streek. Open fronted shops displayed
                                cheap gimcracks as a cover for their real stock in trade.

                                His fellow shoppers were an unsalubrious lot, a motley of sinister looking aliens and even
                                more sinister humans. Touchy too, as such people often are, quarrels and fistfights were
                                constantly breaking out around them - but nobody assailed Luke with so much as a hard look.

                                Possibly because he was no longer an obvious greenhorn with an invisible 'kick me' stenciled
                                on the back of his tunic but more likely because of Deak.

                                He ambled easily alongside, two meters of serene enigmatic muscle. Unaggressive,
                                unthreatening but big enough and powerful enough to make even the most belligerent think
                                twice about tackling him or his companion.

                                The weapons were on display in windowless back rooms accessible only to those who used
                                the right catch phrases. Luckily Deak knew them all.

                                "Most are based on gambling." He'd explained. "If you're looking for weaponry you'd say
                                something like; 'I need to shorten some long odds.' or 'I need some extra counters for a game
                                I'm putting together.'"

                                "Are you a betting man, Deak." Luke asked, almost involuntarily.

                                The other chuckled. "Very good. In Smuggler's argot you've just asked if I'm open to illegal
                                commissions."

                                "Are you?" Luke persisted.

                                "Depends on what laws I'm expected to break." was the answer.

                                Luke was sure the two of them were shattering any number of Imperial statutes just by
                                looking at the wares for sale. Blasters were the least of it. There were guns that shot poison
                                needles or silica pellets that shattered inside the victim shreading internal organs. Stasis guns,
                                pain amplifiers, energy drainers...things that made Luke feel sick to look at them. He'd never
                                realized there were so many nasty ways to kill other beings.

                                Deak seemed to sense his reaction, put a steadying hand on his shoulder. Luke took a deep
                                breath and pointed to a display at random. "How much for thirty of those?"

                                "You bargain very well." Deak observed as they headed back through emptying, dusk
                                shadowed streets to his hostel.

                                Luke shrugged. "I've had a lot of practice." It had been no different from dickering with Jawas,
                                maybe even an little easier. Not that he'd actually bought anything of course. Just indicated
                                interest. And, he hoped, worried whoever it was watching him.

                                Suddenly Deak shoved him against the alley wall at the same time spinning and drawing
                                something from inside his vest.

                                A shimmering, silvery staff appeared as if by magic in his hand flashed down in front of Luke
                                deflecting a greenish stun bolt, then pivoted in Deak's hands to make a vertical overhand strike
                                at the gun arm of the foremost of three cowled figures shrouded in grey/black robes that
                                melded into the deepening shadows. His blow turned into a sideways slice knocking the
                                gunman to the ground.

                                A second assailant jumped over his companion's prostrate body right into a jab in the
                                midsection and bent over wheezing. The staff twirled delivering a knock to the back of the
                                head that laid him beside his friend.

                                The third man, or whatever, hung back justifiably wary. Deak faced him, shimmering staff held
                                diagonally before him, alert but relaxed. Suddenly the man pulled a gun from beneath his robes
                                and fired - not a blaster bolt but a projectile that expanded into a luminous net floating down to
                                be caught and cast aside by Deak's staff. Nonplussed the man hesitated, uncertain what to
                                do next. And Deak stepped smoothly forward to tap him on the side of his cowled skull. He fell
                                across his partners.

                                Luke closed his mouth. Looked down at the blaster in his hand. He hadn't even had a chance
                                to fire. Re-holstered it.

                                Deak bent over the fallen gunmen, pulling off the disguising cowls.

                                "Who are they?" Luke asked, "Imperial Intelligence?"

                                Deak shook his head. "I think not, Bounty Hunters more likely."

                                "Are they dead?"

                                "No, but they'll be out for a good long time." Deak answered straightening. "Best we're not
                                around when they come to."

                                "What is that thing?" Luke demanded, eying the staff.

                                "This?" Deak glanced at it casually, and in a twinkle it had contracted into a silvery cylinder
                                that fit neatly into his palm. "A Suuni Bokkan." he continued as Luke gaped. "Particles of heavy
                                matter in an energy matrix. That's how it changes size. Almost indestructable." He put a big
                                hand on Luke's shoulder and steered him away from the fallen Bounty Hunters. Setting a brisk
                                pace.

                                "I can see why you don't carry a blaster." Luke said, panting a little as he trotted to keep up
                                with Deak's long stride.

                                The older man shrugged. "Clumsy, random things blasters. I prefer something less noisy."

                                Luke blinked. He'd heard those words before - or something like them. Then it came; Ben's
                                voice saying 'Not as clumsy or random as a blaster -' in that exact same tone of dry distaste.

                                "But why would Bounty Hunters be after *me*?" Luke wondered, sitting cross legged on his
                                bed in his room at the hostel, it just didn't make sense.

                                "Word is the Empire is very interested in getting it's hands on the pilot who blew up the Death
                                Star." Deak replied quietly, from the room's only chair. "and willing to pay a high price for him,
                                alive and unharmed."

                                "I can understand them wanting to take me out," Luke frowned. "but why alive? It's not like I
                                know anything about Alliance policy or plans - I'm just another pilot."

                                "Why indeed." Deak agreed softly. "Perhaps somebody high in the Empire wants to talk to
                                you."

                                "Or kill me himself." Luke said grimly.

                                "I suggest you get off this planet. Staying will only endanger you, your squadron mates and
                                your mission."

                                "Maybe so." Luke brooded. "Still, I don't like the idea of deserting them."

                                "You must do what feels right to you." Deak conceeded.

                                Another echo '-you must do what you feel is right, of course.' Luke stared at him. Deak gazed
                                back calmly, giving nothing away. "You know who I am."

                                The other nodded. Stood up. "Search your feelings and chose your path. I'll see you in the
                                morning."

                                He talked like Ben, like a Jedi. "Who are you?"

                                A pause, and then: "A friend of your father's." Deak turned and was out of the room before
                                Luke could react. He stared at the closed door. *A friend of my father's? Another Jedi?*