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The telltale pressure of a blaster muzzle jutted into the back of his head. "Don't move," a flat voice behind him said. Then: "On your knees!"

"Make up your mind," Han grumbled. But he lowered himself to his knees. And then steeled himself for what came next. "Takes a real man to shoot someone in the back," he muttered.

But as he'd expected, the guard didn't react. Apparently brainwashing didn't improve small talk skills.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he snapped. If this was going to be the end, there was no point in stalling. He readied himself to strike, even if there was little chance of success. There was no way he was ending up back in one of those cells, waiting for an execution. He'd fight till his last breath before he ended up down there again.

Before Han could act, there was an explosive burst of laserfire…but no pain.

And he was still kneeling. The blaster at his head fell away. Han turned around to find a guard lying in the dirt, dead. Luke was standing over him, blaster in hand. A thin trail of smoke drifted up from its muzzle.

"You okay?" Luke asked, grasping Han's hand and pulling him to his feet.

"Luke?" Han said, unsure whether to be alarmed or relieved. "You know who I am?"

"Of course I know who, you are," Luke said, dragging Han farther out of sight behind the buildings. Leia and Chewbacca were firing constantly as they backed toward safety.

The guards all cowered behind buildings and boulders of their own, firing sporadically.

Han was very relieved to see Luke acting like Luke again. Almost as relieved as he was not to be dead. "So before…?"

"An act," Luke confirmed. "I have to let Soresh think he's won. It's the only way to find out what he's up to."

"I think we found out," Han said. "He's up to killing us. So how about we make a break before he tries again." The Falcon was docked nearby, and Han was certain they could take out the guards and get themselves off this rock. All of them.

But Luke shook his head.

"It's not just us," Luke said. "Some of the things I've heard—Soresh is plotting something against the Rebel fleet. I'm sure of it."

Han had suspected the same thing. "All the more reason to get out of here, kid. Fly away, save the day, be home for dinner."

"I have to stay," Luke said, with quiet intensity. "I just…I feel like this is where I need to be. That staying could be the only way to save them."

"This more of your Jedi mumbo jumbo?" Han grumbled.

"This is my gut," Luke said.

And Han couldn't argue with that. He pressed a comlink into Luke's hands. "You call us when you need us," he said gruffly, trying not to reveal how worried he was. The kid was taking a big burden upon himself, and Han wasn't sure he could handle it. He wasn't sure anyone could. "We'll be waiting."

"Thanks," Luke said. "Now, I need one more thing."

"Anything, kid."

Luke hesitated. "You trust me?"

Han didn't like the sound of that. "About as much as I trust anyone," he allowed.

Which wasn't saying much. "What do you need?"

Luke gave him a thin smile. "I need you to shoot me."

Luke lay on the ground, a gaping blaster wound in his left shoulder. He barely felt the pain. Instead, there was only joy and relief in the knowledge that his friends were alive.

And not just alive—free. Knowing that made what he had to do so much easier to bear.

Now that he knew they were safe, he could play Soresh's game, he could pretend to be a blank and obedient slave for as long as it took. There was hope after all—for his friends, for the Rebel fleet, and for himself.

He heard footsteps approach, and closed his eyes.

Moments later, a booted toe dug into his side. "Huh?" he said weakly, pretending to be waking from unconsciousness. Soresh stood over him, eyes fiery with rage. Two guards stood behind him.

"He escaped," Luke admitted, then moaned.

"Not before giving you a little parting gift, I see," Soresh said, gesturing to the wound.

"Nice friends you have there."

"Friends?" Luke asked, careful to sound confused, but not curious.

"Never mind." Soresh cleared his throat. "I'll admit this didn't work out