Only the Force could be credited for why he had survived this long when so many other pilots--pilots with more experience than him--died around him with chilling regularity.

Luke slowly pulled himself from the wreckage of his X-wing. Sharp pangs burst through his legs as he lifted them over the side of the cockpit--carefully--and lowered himself bit by bit; shocking jolts of his nerves waking up interrupted the stiff, numb sensations that had built up in his limbs as he'd sat cramped and unconscious in the snub fighter. Luke grimaced and let go of the edge of the cockpit; hit the ground and crumpled to his knees before he had time to absorb the impact. He landed on top of what gear he'd been able to salvage and drop out of the fighter. It wasn't much, survival-wise; the mission was supposed to have been quick. Just scouting the planet with the new Rogue Squadron.

Either the Empire had already found a use for the tiny little backwater, or they had gotten a tip about the Alliance's interest in it. They'd been waiting.

Everything ached; especially his shoulders, back, and neck. A headache split his head, and his gums felt as though they'd been filled with needles and not teeth. But it could've been a lot worse. At least Wedge and Tycho had escaped into hyperspace--at Luke's orders. A few of the green pilots hadn't made it. One of the older pilots--almost thirty years old--had been shot down alongside him, but before impact planetside her fighter had broken apart; the damage to her X-wing had been too much to allow for atmospheric re-entry. As far as Luke could determine, he was the only Rebel on-planet; possibly the only sapient life at all, if the Empire had no use for it beyond a

a place to stage an ambush.

The emergency beacon in his fighter was damaged. But the Rebellion didn't leave pilots down. Their philosophy prohibited the abandonment of fellow members of the Rebel Alliance, but there was also a more practical reason, a simple, rational one: strategically, they couldn't afford to lose anybody at this stage of the war, especially not a relatively experienced X-wing pilot. The Alliance didn't have a virtually limitless supply of bodies and resources as the Empire did. And, though it was unfair to place him above the rest, Luke understood they wouldn't want to lose their "hero" who had blown up the Death Star "singlehandedly." Even though a lot of guys had been there getting him to that point, most of them dying in the process. But keeping Luke alive was a propaganda strategy, and good for morale.

Wedge and Tycho would report to the princess what had happened, and sooner or later a rescue team would be sent to look for him--if only to confirm to themselves that the Hero of Yavin was dead. Presumably, they'd be looking for poor Shan as well; he'd been the only one close enough to see her X-Wing disintegrate in the atmosphere.

At least the Rogues had managed to kill a few TIEs in the scuffle--particularly impressive, considering they'd been up against Black Squadron.

The TIE Advanced, coming seemingly out of nowhere, had really been the one to decimate them, though. Within seconds it had eliminated multiple members of Rogue Squadron, then set its sights solely on Luke, peppering him with fire relentlessly; staying on him as if its navigational computer was slavishly linked to his.

The TIE Advanced was still technically a prototype, and there weren't many testers. Darth Vader was the only one to use the model as a matter of course. And, though he usually didn't fly with Black Squadron, he still technically was Black Leader and took control from his second when he wished.

But Luke had known it was him before he'd even seen the Advanced. Vader's oppressive, cold presence in the Force--similar to the sensation of being immersed in frigid dark water--had been recognizable on its own. It was the same cold feeling he'd had in the Death Star trench when he'd been the last one left and Vader and his guard had been bearing down on him.

He must have known it was me. That prompted a new wave of cold prickling over his skin. Luke didn't know much about the Force. But if he could sense someone as adept as Darth Vader, then Vader must have detected his presence.

Artoo beeped down at him sharply from his place behind the cockpit of the X-wing.

"Right," Luke said. He girded himself and stood up, shakily. "I'll get you out."

They didn't have time for reflecting. Sunset was coming soon and they had to prepare camp as quickly as possible.

After helping Artoo down, Luke examined his surroundings, though still too dazed to stand for long. He saw a lot of trees, a few gis snub had felled before it slid into a clearing. It was only sparsely overgrown with short some grass and withered-looking shrubs, but the snub was almost to the tree line. He'd seen the dark green forest on his way down, but couldn't remember any bodies of water.

Luke went through his survival pack. It contained only one canteen of water, and even using it sparingly he had a day or two at most. There were enough rations for a few meals. If necessary, though, he could use the land. His home planet Tatooine was harsher than most habitable worlds. As long as no Imperials showed up, he could make it until the Alliance found him. Hopefully, the trees hid some stream or river from him.

When he felt ready, he went to the closest large tree and cut down several leafy branches with his lightsaber, then dragged them to his fighter to camouflage it.

Black Squadron had taken some hits, and he was almost positive that he'd at least grazed Vader's TIE before he'd been shot down. But they'd regroup and soon search the planet for him and Shan, if they hadn't already. Darth Vader was especially driven. And his experience with, and connection to, the Force was decades ahead of Luke's own. The Force almost seemed to guide Vader in his search. Or maybe Vader was just that good; just that determined.

You did blow up the Death Star. Can't blame him for taking it personally, can you? They say he was the one to answer to the Emperor. No one else had been left to take the blame.

Hopefully Shan had left some debris to distract them and lead them away from him. It was gruesome to think about, but the wreckage of her X-wing might give him some extra time.

Luke slung his pack over his shoulders. The canteen hung from his belt and he ate his only ration bar as he walked toward the main treeline. Artoo rolled along behind him, a little rocky on the terrain but managing well enough.

Show me where to go, Luke implored of the Force. Then he entered the forest.

TBC.