Luke was going over the day, in his mind. Not the same as Leia, who held a meeting the end of each day of the mission. "Now then," she'd say, "How is it we're still alive?"

"I love it when you ask that," Han would declare happily. "The answer is usually 'thanks to me'."

"It most certainly isn't," she'd usually retort with an indulgent eye roll. Today she wasn't having it. She added, "In fact, I was going to bring up you firing your weapon needlessly that has me ask this same question day after day."

"Today was a sniper," Han said sternly.

"He was just a man on the roof."

"With a blaster."

"He could have been hunting pigeons."

"He could have been hunting princesses, and he almost caught one."

"If he was indeed an Imperial, then surely you know he'd miss."

Today's meeting, or argument, as Luke liked to call them, went on a little longer than usual because they were in a barn, and it was warm, and the hay, though prickly, made a nice mattress to sleep on. The animals inside made soft noises, and Luke liked that. He was having trouble falling asleep.

Today was day six of the mission. The Falcon felt like she was half a world away, set down inside a patch of prairie on Liberty IV. Luke figured they were just going to hope to bump into her upon return, though Han was drawing a map as they went. They had to travel by foot, or, if they were lucky, by straw-littered cart. Luke hadn't taken his boots off, though Han told him to. He was afraid they wouldn't go back on. He had blisters.

He'd never been on a world like this. It hadn't been a member of the Old Republic, but it was part of the Empire. It was pretty young as human settlement went; less than twenty thousand years is what Luke had learned. Part of the isoclan movement- hence the name Liberty IV- where some zealot took his followers where there wasn't anyone, and they lived without benefit of the modern age.

Now that he was learning more about the movement, Luke wondered if maybe Tatooine had been part of the isoclan movement, one that failed. The humans on his homeworld numbered very small, and the longer he was offworld, the crazier it seemed to call a desert planet under two blazing suns a home.

Most of the isoclan communes had failed; they either starved or became part of the food chain. Some resumed use of technology and contact with the rest of the galaxy, and over time you couldn't see remnants of the former way of life. Tatooine, if Luke's theory was true, fell in that category. There was no other way to get water without forcing condensation from the air. One also couldn't walk the desert; exposure and thirst killed one pretty quickly, so the humans got around in speeders.

But that was Tatooine, very different from this lush, temperate world. He had to tell himself to stop making comparisons and watch out for pigeon-hunting snipers instead, but his mind had bookmarked the place. Maybe someday, when all this was over, he would return. It was pretty quiet, even in the villages they passed through. Luke had never realized how much noise a generator or motor made.

Liberty IV had isolated itself successfully, and farmed, or whatever the residents did with their lives- it was nice farming, Luke, former farmer, thought- but change had come. Not slowly, with thinking and deliberation or even from the passage of time, but probably in one day. In one moment, Luke was willing to bet. The moment the Empire landed.

Luke wondered if the Imperial ship set down in the prairie like they had. Probably not. Probably right on top of one of the villages, which is why the Rebel Alliance was getting reports of uprisings, and which explained his own furtive presence, along with Han and Leia on Liberty IV.

Would Liberty IV join the Alliance? Luke didn't know; he had no desire to shape futures like Leia did. But he did like to help. Liberty IV wanted to preserve its way of life without interference from the Empire, and he thought that was a valid cause.

Except his feet really hurt.

"I hope tomorrow we get to ride in a cart," Luke had mentioned in the meeting, to shut his companions up. Going over a day's events was fine if they could make any changes for the next; arguing about who was more cool in a situation was useless.

"I've already arranged with the farmer," Leia announced crisply. "He wants to sell a bull and is bringing it to the next village for trade. He's agreed we can come along. It's about eighteen miles from here."

"I'll take it," Luke sighed. Then he glared at Han and Leia. "And we're alive because we're lucky," he told them with finality, and crawled off on his knees to his straw bed.

Neither Han nor Leia could argue with that, so they talked about what to do once they got to market, and Han put another coating of bacta gel on Leia's neck, and pretty soon they all fell quiet.

They had been lucky this time, for real. It was a sniper, and he did almost catch a princess. The bolt had only grazed a spot on Leia's neck- the crook of the shoulder. "He missed," she insisted. "Otherwise I'd be dead." And Han had saved her; the sniper was loading the rifle to take another shot when Han's aim hit faster and true.

The trio had taken off running, Luke amazed that Leia was able to run. Han had grabbed her wrist and was probably pulling her along. A shopkeeper had beckoned them inside his establishment, and sneaked them out the back door, and told them to go to the meat market and find help from a man wearing a black scarf.

They must have seen fifty black scarves. That wasn't luck; the scarves were a hidden symbol of the local rebellion.

On his mound of straw, Luke thought about the tangled web of fate. If it weren't for the Empire's missteps, the people wouldn't be wearing black scarves, and Luke wouldn't be here, either. And Leia would still be Alderaan's Princess, not hiding in a barn hissing that her wound was merely a heat blister.

Maybe it was the gentle shelter of the barn. He wasn't scared of dying; he'd come close before. But when it was close he was busy trying to avoid it, and when he was safe he was too happy to think about it. He just didn't want it to happen here, or now. Well, to be honest, he didn't want it to happen to Han or Leia.

"Ever think about your last words, Leia?" Luke said into the darkness. Along with the soft sighs of the animals, one was tolerant and definitely human.

"She's asleep, kid," Han answered him, his voice quiet and deep. It didn't disturb the animals, and Luke didn't see that it woke Leia, either.

Luke propped himself up on his elbow. "She ok?" He asked his eyes to tell him more than just the vague shapes on the ground, but they needed time to adjust.

"Yeah. She's right that it did barely graze her. Bet it stings though."

Luke nodded into the darkness. The bacta gel had a pain reliever that caused drowsiness. She wouldn't apply it in the morning, he knew, no matter how it felt.

"What would hers have been?" he asked. "Her last words."

"'Shut up, Captain'. You mean before falling asleep?"

"No, I mean before if that sniper got her."

"Um... I don't know. Something about trade routes."

"Mine would be 'my feet hurt'."

Han chuckled.

"It's not funny," Luke protested.

"Sure it is," Han said. "I was saying something like 'get down'. Usually it's something like that; 'run', or 'fuck' or 'gods damn it'.

"Sounds like you've had a few last word moments."

Han grunted. He wasn't in the habit of reviewing his life. Probably why it came close to ending so often. "Yeah. That's the way it is, right?"

"No," Luke said. He lay back down, eyes up at the rafters. "Mine's going to be peaceful. I'm going to be ready."

"You are, huh?" Han sounded amused.

One of the barn animals sounded like it had stood up. Luke wondered if he and Han were making too much noise. He said, "Yeah. I'll be old."

"So what's it gonna be, these last words?"

"I don't know yet. Something deep."

"Guess you got time to think of something, since you're not old."

"Yeah. I'm working on it."

Now Han sounded like he wanted to prepare to sleep. "You do that, kid."

"Well, you too. And Leia."

"Sure. Anything you say. You take your boots off?"

"No."

"You should. It's just gonna get worse. Use some of that gel."

Luke heard movement, and rested on his elbow again. Now his eyes picked up the gleam of the moon's light that came through cracks in the barn's boards, and he could see Han rustling in the pack. Luke saw Leia beside Han, curled up and facing him. She was positioned on her good side, but she was pretty close. The gel must have knocked her out quickly.

That was the thing about Leia. She found a way to end an argument. And the thing about Han was he might not be arguing in the first place.

Han tossed the tube of gel over and stretched himself back out on the straw, one arm behind his head. "We packed plenty, so use it."

"You're just trying to get me quiet," Luke accused. "And sleep."

"Nah," Han mocked. "Don't want your last words tomorrow to be 'my feet hurt'. Tryin' to save your dignity and all."

"Huh. Thanks." But Luke was grinning. Black scarves and Empires, and he never would have predicted he'd be here. The moisture fields of Tatooine before Han and Leia felt like he'd imagined them.

Luke might not be scared of death, but he was scared of seeing his feet. He decided he'd take the boots off in the morning, and he could sleep the eighteen miles on the cart, Han and Leia arguing over his dozing form.

"Good night, Han."

"Famous last words."

"They're good ones."

"So's 'see you in the morning'."

"True. I like the promise in that one."

"Shut up already."

Luke smiled. The barn animals snuffled. He wondered if they dreamed.