A.N.: Hey guys it's been... not quite two years. I am really quite sorry and if you want to throw tomatoes I won't blame you. College isn't for those with free time, plus there are periods where I can't bring myself to work on anything. I stand by earlier statements about completing this work. I also apologize because while we are finally getting to the point where Han starts becoming what the title says he is, I feel this is the hardest sell in the story, everything after this and the next chapter should be much easier to work on.

Also, this is actually a cutoff of the originally much longer chapter 3 because I was determined to get to Bespin by the end, but I realized that in doing so it might be even longer before this story sees an update. So, with my apologies, I present Chapter three.

Han Solo: Jedi Knight

Issue Three

The menacing DARTH VADER has sent bounty hunters across the galaxy to find the whereabouts of the MILLENNIUM FALCON, which he hopes to carry the young LUKE SKYWALKER, unaware of his death on the tundra of Hoth. PRINCESS LEIA and the remnants of ECHO BASE have escaped all pursuit to finally lick their wounds and plan their next move. Meanwhile, the MILLENNIUM FALCON and its pilot HAN SOLO is finally on its way to DAGOBAH to meet JEDI MASTER YODA...

Han relaxed his grip on the hyperdrive levers. Outside the cockpit canopy, the swirling vortex of hyperspace danced hypnotically and within the hull, everything hummed contentedly. The Corellian slumped back in his chair, relieved that their desperate repairs had held. Beside him, Chewbacca similarly released his tension and settled back. The Wookiee chuffed softly and rubbed a paw over his eyes.

"Yeah," Han confirmed. "Damn lucky."

They sat in silence for several minutes, waiting for their speed to carry them far enough away from Hoth and Darth Vader's fleet. Eventually, the timer ran down and Han drew back the levers, bringing the stars out of their hypnotic swirl.

They were utterly alone.

Perfect.

After two more random jumps, the Millenium Falcon headed due Dagobah and the promised Jedi Master.

Dagobah proved to be a floating marble with a hue reminiscent of the Death Star's trash compactor. Chewbacca rumbled after checking sensors.

"Yeah, well there wouldn't be. It's not like you go into hiding by booking a trip to the nearest settled world. Even that kooky old wizard lived way out in the desert on that miserable ball of sand," Han said.

Chewbacca rumbled a very relevant question. The Corellian sat silently for a while, staring out at the planet.

A whole world to search….

"I don't know," he said finally. "Maybe he'll find us."

In his hut among the roots of a great tree, Yoda felt an arrival he had been waiting decades for. But… something was wrong. Instead of Skywalker's brash and impulsive shining light, there were two dimmer stars, both bowed by the woes of life and far too set in their ways.

The ancient Jedi cast his mind into the Force, seeking what had changed. The future may have always been in motion, but the past was done, much easier to see.

….A planet of eternal winter….

….Stumbling footsteps in the snow….

….A steed lost in the storm….

….Frantic searching followed by….

….Cold so deep that it stole life away.

Yoda slumped against his bed.

"Terrible, this is."

Chewbacca growled and gestured at the planet.

"Well, how am I supposed to know?" Han said, gesturing to himself. "It's not like he drew out a map! He said 'Yoda' and 'Dagobah' and that was it!"

The look the Wookiee gave him would put an Imperial Interrogator to shame.

"Look, that's all we've got to go on, so let's just find a spot to land and-" It was at that moment that the Millennium Falcon chose to lose all forward momentum and drop straight towards the planet, against all laws of physic.

Alarms blared throughout the ship as the two pilots stared out the viewport at the approaching planet before their brains kicked into gear. Fingers and claws flew over the control boards only to find everything unresponsive.

"Repulsors, engines, escape pods, it's all dead!" Han yelled in disbelief. "Even the drag chute!"

Chewbacca howled and whacked his console. With nothing functioning, their search for Luke's Jedi Master was going to come to an abrupt end.

I'm not going to let it end like this, Han thought as he struggled against the effects of freefall, dragging himself from the cockpit and towards the nearest access panel. He wrenched it open to find….

….Everything in order. Nothing was smoking, no loose wires, no sparks. Everything was just off.

"What the…" Han's bafflement was interrupted by a bark from the cockpit as Chewbacca reported troubling news. He levered himself back into the cockpit and looked outside. Flames were beginning to lick the hull and obscure the muddy marble of Dagobah as they entered the atmosphere at suicidal speeds. Within seconds, the flames were too bright to see anything outside as they plummeted uncontrollably downwards.

"Spast," Han said.

As soon as the curse left his mouth, the flames cleared, revealing the treetops of Dagobah to be much closer than before. Abruptly, their descent slowed and the previously dead instrument panels flickered back to life.

"This is beyond unbelievable," Han muttered, but all that incredulity had to be pushed aside until they had safely landed. Working together, he and Chewbacca throttled up the retrothrusters and the repulsors to level out them out. Now that the danger had passed, Chewbacca pointed out a clearing that looked large enough to land in.

Well, perhaps 'clearing' was the wrong word, but Han felt that there was too much greenery floating on the surface to call the space a lake. They maneuvered the Falcon over it and started the landing cycle. As he expected, the water went all the way up to the belly of the ship. Neither smuggler was looking forward to cleaning the mechanisms later.

They sat in silence for a moment, allowing their nerves to calm after the panic. Chewbacca finally barked a question. Han shrugged.

"I guess we use the top hatch until we find more stable ground. There's already going to be gunk in the landing gear, I don't want anything to actually get into the real innards of the ship if we try any other way out."

Han clambered out of the hatch and looked around him, peering into the foggy darkness of the swamp, trying to ignore the sheer organic stench of the place. The sudden humidity made his jacket cloying and his clothes were already clinging to his body uncomfortably. Far off animals screeched and hooted, insects buzzed around the cooling hull of the Falcon, and on the shore, a little green gnome was watching him intently.

For a moment, Han's gaze continued on until the sight finally processed. When he swung back to look, the little creature was still there and still watching, dressed in a ragged robe and patchwork cloak. Han rapped on the hull to let his partner know it was safe to come up as well. When the Wookiee joined him, the Corellian indicated their audience.

Judging when exactly an ambulatory fur rug chose to shrug is a difficult art, but Han managed it. "Well alright, but be ready," he muttered.

"Hey!" He called out to the figure on the shore. "Do you speak basic?"

The little creature harrumphed. "To speak is no feat. Speak you do but little is said."

Chewbacca snorted, causing Han to give him the side-eye before responding.

"Alright, wise guy, have you seen some guy named Yoda?"

The green gnome shook its head. "Seen? No. But hear him, I do."

Han stared at the little thing, mouth trying to form words. Then it clicked, but it was just so stupid that it couldn't be true….

"Are you Yoda?" He asked hesitantly.

"Think it so strange do you, that I might be a Jedi Master?"

Again, Han struggled to find something to say. The obvious response would offend the diminutive Jedi, but a lie would probably get the same thing. Yoda saved the smuggler from his dilemma by shaking his head dismissively.

"It matters not," he said. "You have asked your questions and now I will do the same." The Jedi Master fixed Han with a stern glare. "Where is Skywalker?"

Han's throat worked. "He… died."

"This I know," Yoda snapped. "There is another. Where is she?"

"Another- I don't know what you're talking about!"

"The Princess! She must be trained. With her brother dead, all hope on her now rests!"

Han stared at him, dumbfounded. Luke's sister?

"Come here, she must! She must train and time grows short," Yoda insisted.

After everything he had been through to get here, to find this ugly green thing was demanding that he go back and do it all over again rubbed Han exactly the wrong way.

"I hate to break it to you pal," he said. "But Leia's got a Rebellion to run. If you think I could just drag her away from that for who knows how long-"

"She must train!" Yoda insisted again.

Han sighed in exasperation. "Look, why don't you just come with us? The Falcon's not up for a round trip right now and everything just shorted out when we were coming down here. It'll be weeks before we repair everything to come back here."

Yoda waved a hand irritably. "With your ship, nothing wrong there is. The power of the Force brought you here."

Han gaped at the Jedi Master. "That was you? Why I ought to-" His outburst was cut short by a heavy paw clamping down on his shoulder. When the Wookie had his attention, Chewbacca shook his head.

Han exhaled heavily. "Alright. Fine, just don't do it again. Now let's get moving, the fleet won't wait at the rendezvous forever."

Yoda shook his head. "No."

"No?"

The Jedi gestured to the swamp around them. "This place is filled with life. Strong in the Force, it is. It is here that I may live unnoticed. Leave, and found I will be."

Han had a sudden thought of the mad old wizard who'd accompanied Luke all those years ago.

Yoda sighed. "No recourse, have I. Long have I waited for a student and a student has come." He looked at Han. "But never such rough material have I had."

"Me? Why me?" Han looked at his companion. "Why me?"

Chewbacca rumbled that, in his opinion, it was because he was there.

"We must begin," Yoda said. "Always in motion, the future is, but time is ever against us."

Darth Vader loomed over the communications officer as the panicked man gave his report. Standing by his side and thus not the subject of the loom, Admiral Piett could not help but feel that Lord Vader was very good at it.

"I am afraid that none of the bounty hunters have had any success, my Lord," the Officer quavered.

Even without moving, the loom seemed to intensify and the Sith's displeasure was palpable.

"What of Fett?" Vader intoned. "Has he made any report?"

"N-none, sir."

The cowering officer clearly expected to be struck down for this news, yet Darth Vader simply turned on his heel and strode away. Piett knew that the shocked visage of the poor officer would be with him to the end of his days, a forever cherished memory.

"You will, of course, keep his Lordship informed," he said.

"O-of course, sir," the officer stuttered, still coming to terms with his unexpected stay of execution.

"Now, go have some caf to steady your nerves and then get back to work," the Admiral ordered. The officer saluted, then scurried off.

Piett watched him go and then he turned to follow after his superior.

"We must consider other avenues," Vader rumbled after Piett had caught up with him. "Waiting for bounty hunters to find the Millennium Falcon will take too long."

"Of course, my Lord. What are your suggestions?"

"We must pursue the contacts of those who may be aboard. They may have gone to ground by now and they will be the most likely choice," Vader said.

Piett produced a datapad. "I took the liberty of preparing a list earlier, sir. Intelligence has an extensive file on this 'Captain Solo' and his companion."

Vader took the proffered datapad and browsed through it. Piett waited expectantly for his Lord's strange abilities to narrow the search window…

The armored figure scoffed and handed the device back. "Post an agent at each and inform me of any situation."

Piett nodded, so much for that hope. "Already done, my Lord. They wait only for their word to set out on their mission."

Vader paused and considered the small man for a long moment. "It is given," he finally said.

The Admiral nodded and hurried off to make it so. Reflective lenses watched him go until he turned a corner, but Vader stood there for several minutes longer, considering.

The newly promoted Commander Antilles rested his head on his desk, subscribing to the belief that when you look away from a problem and back again, it will disappear. Unfortunately, Wes and Tycho were still there and so were the stacks of pilot applications.

"Alright, who's next?"

Wes made a show of consulting the datapads in his hands. "Up next is Thump-Thump. He's a Gungan."

Wedge's head was back on the desk.

"Janson, I could murder you right now and not only will I not be court-marshalled, Mon Mothma will personally pin a medal on my chest," he said.

"You wound me, boss. I'm only trying to help."

Tycho shifted in his chair. "Unfortunately, he's also correct; the next pilot for review is Thump-Thump."

Wedge grudgingly arranged himself into something like a professional posture and gestured to the other two. "Alright, send him in."

Thump-Thump was short for a Gungan and he walked with the casual confidence of a seasoned pilot, but even the altered flightsuit couldn't hide his ganglyness. And the elongated helmet tucked under one long arm proved a major piece of evidence at the applicant's unusual build if one somehow missed all the other signs. He strode up to Wedge's desk and stood at attention while Wes and Tycho lounged against the wall behind him.

The Commander nodded at him. "Lieutenant, please have a seat."

Wedge made a show of examining Thump-Thump's file while the Gungan tried not to fidget in the human-sized chair.

"It says here you once struck a superior officer," he finally stated.

Thump-Thump won a small prize in Wedge's head when he answered the unasked question.

"Hesa makin' fun of meesa accent," the Gungan said firmly. "Hesa bein' very wude when meesa ask him to stop."

Wedge nodded. "Well if any of my pilots do that, you just let me know." He very deliberately did not look at Janson, though Wes tended to have enough sense not to antagonize someone who would clock him good.

"Where are you from? It says your family name is Nass?"

"Meesa from Naboo, yes. Papa was big bombad Boss, but heesa say no girly of his bein' a highflier. Meesa run away to help in da fightan. Papa disappointed that meesa no boy anyway."

No girly… Wedge looked sharply at Wes, who shrugged helplessly behind the Gungan girl. You just wait, Janson, Wedge thought. It's kitchen duty for two weeks and we'll see if I ever trust you with this again.

He focused back on Thump-Thump records. "You're record is good, so I think you'll make the initial cut. I suggest you spend more time in the simulators because the competition will be fierce."

They stood and shook hands.

"Meesa countin' on it," she said with a grin that did menacing things to that too-wide mouth.

When she was gone, Wedge collapsed bonelessly into his chair.

"Tycho, who's next?" They both ignored Wes' protest.

"A Gand named Sufuu Va."

Wedge sighed. "Let's get this over with."

Leia placed her food tray across from Wedge in the mess. He barely raised his head to acknowledge her from the datapads spread out before him. His own tray lay pushed aside and neglected as he worked.

"Enjoying the responsibilities of command?" She asked. His head shot up and he reddened when he realized who it was.

"No, not really. I have fifty applicants to the squadron that seem perfect on paper, but none of them stand out and I don't know how they'll work together. We start sim-training in a few days and I'm ready to pull my hair out. I don't know how…I don't know how Luke did it," he finished lamely.

Leia smiled wanly. "That's what you get for running the best squadron in the Alliance," she said. "At least, that's what Luke used to tell me when he was close to throwing datapads across the room."

Wedge grumbled wordlessly.

She patted his shoulder. "Cheer up. That transfer finally went through and we've got a whole wing arriving in a few days, so you don't have to worry about trying to field any of those candidates just yet."

The Commander perked up at that. "Oh really? What wing?"

"Hunter Wing," Leia said easily. She'd never heard of them before and she'd felt the need to ensure that they weren't getting the short end of the stick.

He mulled this over.

"I can't say I've heard of them one way or the other," he eventually said.

The Princess grinned. "Well, you're about to. Come on, eat your lunch and we'll go meet them when they land."

"I already ate," Wedge mumbled.

Leia raised an eyebrow and glanced meaningfully at the tray near his elbow.

Wedge looked over. "Oh," he managed weakly.

Wedge stood near the door of the hangar, keeping well back of the hustle of technicians and droids. A third of Hunter Wing, designated Dog Squadron was coming in to land near where the imperious Leia stood and he wanted to see the whole picture. Twelve specs gradually became visible outside the hangar and resolved into a squadron's worth of Y-Wings. The old fighters had never been his favorite, being just the wrong side of maneuverable for him, but Dog Squadron seemed utterly at home at the stick. The squadron executed a good if slightly shaky rolling touchdown and two pilots exited each fighter and formed into a slouching line before the Princess.

Interesting, thought Wedge.

The squadron leader, who had 'Top Dog' painted on his helmet saluted her easily.

"Dog Squadron, reporting for duty as ordered, ma'am."

She acknowledged this with a nod and considered the beings before her. Every one of them wore their flight helmets with the visors down. "Commander," she asked. "Why haven't your pilots taken their helmets off?"

The 'Top Dog' developed a satisfied smirk at the question. "I'm not sure," he said with ill-concealed glee. "But I'm sure the situation can be easily rectified." He turned to his squadron.

"You heard her, helmets off!" He barked.

The order was followed with many a moan and grumble, revealing the most spectacular hangovers Wedge had ever seen, even at such a distance. The squadron leader grinned, obviously in reaction to Leia's unseen look of horror.

"My people got real excited that we were moving up in the world. Right under that spit-fire princess with the legs, wasn't that you said Branald?"

A human with the most colorful black eye of the lot gave a grin that was missing several teeth.

"I'm going to get you for that, sir."

"I won't hold my breath," the other replied breezily, then he focused on Leia again. "They chose a different than usual to celebrate. By the time I found them, the brawl had ended and they were staggering home."

"Well it had better not happen again or you will find yourself facing much worse consequences than missing teeth," she growled. "This is not a pleasure cruise, am I making myself clear?"

The squadron leader's easy grin disappeared. "Crystal, ma'am."

Boba Fett devoured a ration bar, heedless of the crumbs showering the controls of his ship. Already, Solo was proving to be exceptional quarry, no other bounty had disappeared so thoroughly. Every contact, every known hideout, every previous associate was a dead end for the simple reason that no one had seen hide or hair of him in months.

Solo had simply vanished. He was good, very good.

But Boba Fett was better.

Two months passed on Dagobah, months filled with frustration on Han's part. None of this Force nonsense was believable and the little troll's air of smug stoicism was insufferable. Yoda may have said that he was going to turn the smuggler into a Jedi, but Han found himself doing more physical training and 'meditation' than learning mystic mumbo-jumbo. At least during the meditation he could sleep. Time and time again, the Jedi Master would attempt to explain the Force, which was just as laughable as that mad old wizard and his description for the Kid's benefit.

Everything finally changed when Yoda watched a session of maintenance on the Falcon as Han and Chewbacca chased malfunctions from one end of their jury-rigged ship to the other, his eyes tracing their paths as the pair repaired or modified a system, necessitating the modifications of yet more systems. When Han finally looked up again, he saw the Jedi Master watching him.

"No time for meditation or whatever," he said. "The air here's too moist and it's hurting the Falcon. Might have to do a supply run for something more suited to the climate, I don't think our rush job will hold."

Yoda was silent for a while.

"The Force is like your ship," he said at last.

Han stared at him. The little Jedi had always been a bit out there, but this was new territory.

"Foolish, you think I am," Yoda shook his head.

"But I have more to say. Life created your ship and protect life in turn, it does. In darkness and in danger it is your shield and your tool. Always growing, it is, always changing. When you look closer, you find it interconnected in ways you can barely fathom. The ship… speaks to you, tells you when it hurts, when danger approaches, when reaching out for you others are.

A tool it is, but more than that, it is a friend. An ally."

Then the Jedi Master poked Han with his walking stick. "And connected are you, you and your ship. You feel its pain, heal its hurts, keep it alive with everything you have. A part of you, is your ship. And so too is the Force."

Han continued to stare, not in incredulity but in shock.

"Go now," Yoda commanded. "Meditate on what I have said. Connected are you, feel this and find the Force you will."

Han sat silently as Yoda hobbled away, staring after him. The little troll had been right in a way. He was connected to the Falcon, just as any decent pilot and competent mechanic was. Some days, he could almost hear her speak in the hum of the engines. That was a connection, clear and strong, a cord that hummed like the Falcon's engines on a good day. But there were other connections, weren't there? There was Chewie, bound to him and to the ship, that cord no less bright but rustling like a forest in the breeze, old and strong enough to weather any storm.

About the time Han realized how strange that whole line of thought was, he realized that he could feel the connections and more were springing up as he noticed. Between the Millennium Falcon and the two of them, between the trees, the squawking and hooting animals, and there was even a bright cord travelling from him up towards the stars, humming the first notes of a stirring anthem. Han just knew that Leia would be on the other end of that one. Another cord, ancient and frayed, thrumming like old times long gone lead off in the direction that Yoda had gone.

And there was another one. A cord that had been cut not so long ago, flapping loose in the ether, its length dimmed but with the suggestion of a blinding brilliance in the past. With that sight, Han snapped out of his trance and the threads disappeared as if they'd never been.

A knock on Leia's open door startled her from the datawork required to run a small fleet. The intruder turned out to be General Rieekan.

"We've gotten a report in from Intelligence, Imperial traffic has chatter about something they're calling 'Waxing Vengeance'. Nothing substantial, but there's also word of massive fleet movements and diverted material."

The man frowned. "Whatever they're doing, it's something big."

Leia's brow furrowed. "What does the rest of High Command have to say about it?"

"Mon Mothma gave orders to gather what intel and resources we can on this and meet up in an outer orbit near Sullest." He replied. "We have six months before the rendezvous."

END OF ISSUE THREE