Star Wars_ The Black Fleet Crisis 01_ Before the Storm - Michael P. Kube-McDowell [30]
“You know,” Han said slowly, “I always kind of wondered why you drew the short straw, why Yoda and Obi-Wan didn’t team up and take on the Emperor themselves—”
“Yes!” Luke said, his face more animated than Han had seen it since arriving. “I think that’s why it fell to me, Han. That’s why I had to be the one to face Vader. I still had the passion to reshape things, a passion Obi-Wan and Yoda had moved beyond. Surrender disarms you.”
Han’s expression showed his disgust. “It’s pretty useless, then, isn’t it? Jedi Knights who won’t fight?”
“Han, try to understand. The essence of the dark side is using the Force to control others. I know that temptation firsthand. If you champion that idea, you’re thinking just as Palpatine and my father did—‘I have the power, and it’s mine to use as I wish.’ Do you want that to be the code we live by? Should the Jedi rule the galaxy, simply because we can?”
“Well—now that you put it that way—”
“Good,” Luke said. “But then understand that there’s a price. When a Jedi renounces that path, it becomes very hard to be a warrior, to lead a crusade. Obi-Wan and Yoda weren’t afraid to fight, or to die. They felt the suffering the Empire was causing just as acutely as any of us did—probably more so. I wasn’t stronger than them, or wiser. I was raw, headstrong, reckless. But I had to be the one to challenge the Emperor—because I still could.”
Han frowned and cocked his head. “What about now?”
“Now? I don’t know,” Luke said, shaking his head. “I don’t know if I could do it now. I don’t know if I could summon the outrage. I feel myself standing on a dividing line, at a cusp. I don’t know what I should be doing with these gifts—these burdens. It’s the question I’ve come here to explore.”
“And you want to be left alone to do it.”
“I need to be, Han. Will you help Leia understand?”
“I can try,” Han said dubiously.
“I can’t ask more than that.”
“Um—look, with everything you’ve said, I already know the answer. But I gotta ask, so I can tell her I did. Leia wants your help with something.”
“I know.”
“She wants you to come live with us for a while. She needs help with the kids.”
“She thinks she does,” Luke said. “I’m sorry. I have to say no.”
“Okay,” Han said with a shrug. “I had to ask. I guess she thought, you know, family and all, maybe you could become a hermit next month instead of this month—”
Luke stood. “She’s important to me, as are the children, as are you. You know that.”
“Sure—”
“That’s why my answer is no. It has nothing to do with this other matter.”
“It doesn’t?” Han asked, struggling to his feet.
“My sister Leia has all the talent and wisdom she needs to be not only the mother, but the model, your children need,” Luke said. “She has only to believe in herself, and she’ll find that nothing is beyond her. Which is why the worst thing I could do for your family right now is come to her rescue, to encourage her to look to me to solve her problems. She’ll only undercut her own authority with the children, and yours with it. They must learn their first and most important lessons from you. In that, they’re no different from any other children.”
Han pursed his lips as he considered Luke’s answer. “All right,” he said, offering his hand. “Good luck, Luke. I hope this won’t be the last time I see you. But you call us—we won’t call you. Okay, buddy?”
Taking the offered hand, Luke looked intently into his visitor’s eyes. “Thank you,” he said, with a small but affectionate smile. “I couldn’t ask for a better friend than you, Han.”
As always, the open emotion made Han uncomfortable. “You could ask, but you don’t deserve one,” he wisecracked, patting Luke on the arm and then pulling away. He circled around Luke toward where the chamber’s entrance used to be. “You get right to work moving that mental furniture around, or whatever it is you hermits do. I’ll just go home and tell Leia you’ve cracked up—it’ll be a lot simpler. No, don’t bother, I can find my way out. I never have seen a maze that couldn’t be greatly simplified with a good blaster—”
The golden sheen of the droid’s metal