"Sir," Biggs put in before his friend could reply, "Luke's the best bush pilot in

the outer-rim territories."

The older man patted Luke reassuringly on the back as they studied his waiting

ship. "Something to be proud of. I've got over a thousand hours in an Incom

skyhopper myself." He paused a moment before going on.

"I met your father once when I was just a boy, Luke. He was a great pilot.

You'll do all right out there. If you've got half your father's skill, you'll do a damn

sight better than all right."

"Thank you, sir. I'll try."

"There's no much difference control-wise between an X-wing T-65," Blue

Leader went on, "and a skyhopper." His smile turned ferocious. "Except the

payload's of somewhat different nature."

He left them and hurried toward his own ship. Luke had a hundred questions to

ask him, and no time for even one.

"I've got to get aboard my own boat, Luke. Listen, you'll tell me your stories

when we come back. All right?"

"All right. I told you I'd make it here someday, Biggs."

"You did." His friend was moving toward a cluster of waiting fighter, adjusting

his flight suit. "It's going to be like old time, Luke. We're a couple of shooting

stars that can't be stopped!"

Luke laughed. They used to reassure themselves with that cry when they

piloted starships of sandhills and dead logs behind the flaking, pitted buildings of

Anchorhead…years and years ago.

Once more Luke turned toward his ship, admiring its deadly lines. Despite

Blue Leader's assurances, he had to admit that it didn't look much like an Incom

skyhopper. Artoo Detoo was being snuggled into the R-2 socket behind the fighter

cockpit. A forlorn metal figure stood below, watching the operation and shuffling

nervously about.

"Hold on tight," See Threepio was cautioning the smaller robot. "You've got to

come back. If you don't come back, who am I going to have to yell at?" For

Threepio, that query amounted to an overwhelming outburst of emotion.

Artoo beeped confidently down at his friend, however, as Luke mounted the

cockpit entry. Farther down the hangar he saw Blue Leader already set in his

acceleration chair and signaling to his ground crew. Another roar was added to the

monstrous din filling the hangar area as ship after ship activated its engines. In that

enclosed rectangle of temple the steady thunder was overpowering.

Slipping into the cockpit seat, Luke studied the various controls as ground

attendants began wiring him via cords and umbilicals into the ship. His confidence

increased steadily. The instrumentation was necessarily simplified and, as Blue

Leader had indicated, much like his old skyhopper.

Something patted his helmet, and he glanced left to see the crew chief leaning

close. He had to shout to be heard above the deafening howl of multiple engines.

"That R-2 unit of yours seems a little beat-up. Do you want a new one?"

Luke glanced briefly back at the secured 'droid before replying. Artoo Detoo

looked like a permanent piece of the fighter.

"Not on your life. That 'droid and I have been through a lot together. All

secure, Artoo?" The 'droid replied with a reassuring beep.

As the ground chief jumped clear, Luke commenced the final checkout of all

instruments. It slowly occurred to him what he and the others were about to attempt.

Not that his personal feelings could override his decision to join them. He was no

longer an individual, functioning solely to satisfy his personal needs. Something

now bound him to every other man and woman in this hangar.

All around him, scattered scenes of good-bye were taking place—some serious,

some kidding, all with the true emotion of the moment masked by efficiency. Luke

turned away from where one pilot left a mechanic, possibly a sister or wife, or just a

friend, with a sharp, passionate kiss.

He wondered how many of them had their own little debts to settle with the

Empire. Something crackled in his helmet. In response, he touched a small level.

The ship began to roll forward, slowly but with increasing speed, toward the gaping

mouth of the temple.

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