Playlist:

❶ "Trust Goes Both Ways"—Rogue One OST

❷ [Choose your own song]

❸ [Choose your own song]

❹ "When You Say Nothing At All"—Allison Krauss and Keith Whitley Radio Mix

❶ Luke thudded down the steep incline of the entry ramp for the shuttle. At least the landing gear didn't get damaged. Don't know what we're going to do with the starboard wing, though. Not a whole bunch of spare parts lying around.

Above him Naluma inspected the damage to the wing. "Artoo, hand me that hydrospanner, will you?"

The blue-and-silver droid rolled across the top of the shuttle and brought her the tool. His beeps seeming cheerful for once.

"What do you think, Naluma?"

"Oh, she's fixable." The smile she shot him set his heart thumping. "Might take a rotation to do it, though. Fleet maintenance will need to fabricate a new skin for the fin."

She tucked into a roll and jumped down beside him, her shirt flapping open. Luke perked a brow when he caught a glimpse of silver sequins on her tank that peeked through her tunic neck. The sweet scent of her perfume made his head swim. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Master Luke, everything okay?"

He opened his eyes. "What? Oh, yeah." He averted his eyes to the book he'd forgotten he was carrying. The thin volume with a distressed leather binding trembled in his hands. "Here. Thought this might help."

Naluma opened the first pages, being careful not to tear the fragile parchment. The faded script and twisted fanciful letters made it difficult to read.

"Toward the end there's something about Jedi healers. I couldn't make much sense out of it, though."

"Thank you. I'll devote my studies to this."

Luke rested his hands on his hips and cleared his throat. "Well, I wish you'd devote more of your studies to your flight lessons."

"I already passed my ground school quals, Master."

"But as soon as you were in the cockpit, you forget the first rule of piloting."

Her face flushed, and her mouth formed an O.

"Please remind me what that is, Padawan."

For a long moment, she studied him and formed her answer. Luke waited, wondering if she would control her fear, the real problem.

"The pilot is responsible for the ship, not the passengers, not the cargo, not the crew. The ship and only the ship."

"Yes, master."

Her desire to lash out at him buffed against his mind, but Naluma's pressed lips and tense muscles told him that she struggled with her restraint.

"Now that that's clear, let's go blow off some steam. I think we both need some R & R. Artoo can start the repairs." He shot her a lopsided grin.

"Beep-EEEEp." The droid rotated his head and spit out a drop of oil.

"Artoo, you watch your attitude, or no oil bath tomorrow."

"MeeRP-peep."

"That's more like it. Naluma and I will help you with the big stuff. You start on that tune-up."

Luke and Naluma merged in with the crowd of enlisted army and fleet personnel walking from the base to the concert grounds. Only a few officers dotted the landscape of the rowdy enlisted men and women. Floodlights lit up the field while stars twinkled overhead in the night sky.

❷ Preshow music blared over the speakers, distorting as the dynamics increased. Luke gagged as the overly sweet aroma of soldiers smoking Luna-weed wafted over the crowd.

A raucous jeer emanated from behind them. "Oh, look, it's Jedi Fau. An officer now? What, too good for us?"

Luke put his hand on the small of Naluma's back and directed her away from the man. He whispered in her ear. "Don't engage."

She nodded.

"Where's your lightsaber, Fau? Or do you just use his?" They turned to see the large man with blue eyes and brown hair leering at her. "Bet you miss this." He balled his fits and pumped them at his hips, a sneer spreading across his face.

"In your dreams, D'Marchetto," Naluma retorted over her shoulder before continuing on the path.

His buddies around him "oohed."

A muscular woman with dark, tight-cut hair next to him said, "Just got burned, D'Marchetto. Thought you said she was screaming your name."

Naluma snorted. "Delusions of grandeur. That never happened."

While she kept her eyes forward, her cheeks flamed. Her ire bled over, and now Luke was ready to demonstrate a Force-choke on this guy.

The Jedi Master stopped in the middle of the crowd. Planting his feet and crossing his arms, he held his hand up. "Stand down, soldier."

D'Marchetto spat at him and pushed past the Jedi, nudging Luke's shoulder with his. "What you going to do about it?"

"You're not worth the effort."

"Figures. Bunch of cowards. That's what you Jedi are, what you've always been."

Luke shook his head before wrapping his arm around Naluma's shoulders and directing her to the officer's section. The stage rose a meter and a half in front of a hard-packed dirt dance floor. Low seats spread out around the stage holding army and fleet officers, from ensigns to colonels.

A friendly voice greeted the Jedi. "Luke! Over here." Wearing the pure white uniform of a bridge officer in the fleet, Commander Wedge Antilles waved at the pair.

They meandered their way through the seats until they reached Luke's old friend. He had four empty seats around him. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Yeah, can't miss the Togrutan Toombas." Whoever they are.

"Who's this?" Wedge ran his eyes up and down Naluma.

"My apprentice, Naluma Fau. Naluma, this is my old friend Wedge Antilles."

While the strangers shook hands, Luke didn't miss the glint in Wedge's eye.

"Please join me." Antilles motioned to the seat to his left.

A slight smile appeared on Naluma's face. "I think I'll get some refreshments. Want anything?"

"A beer. Thanks." Wedge winked at her.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Luke sat to the right of Wedge. "Hey, would you cut it out?"

"What?"

"She's a Jedi. We have vows, you know."

"She's your apprentice, so I doubt she's taken any vows yet."

"Wedge."

"What? She can't have a little fun before it's all said and done?"

He doesn't know her past. He can't know. And at least Wedge is a gentleman. He'd stop if she said "no."

Luke ran his fingers through his hair. But will she say "no"? "Sure—I guess. Whatever."

Chuckling, Wedge slapped Luke on the shoulder. "Thanks." He stared at Luke for a moment. "So, how have you been? Feeling any better?"

"A bit. Still have some issues, though." The Jedi winced at the memory of what he did to his friend. "How's your head?"

Antilles grimaced.

"What?"

"It did a number on my vision. Doc can't clear me for fighter pilot anymore."

"Oh, Wedge, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it. It's not like I wouldn't have to retire in a few years, anyway." He pointed to his white uniform. "I'm sure you have noticed the change in uniform. I've transferred to the bridge crew for the new cruiser Freedom. Just passed my quals for XO. Hope to make captain in a few years, get my own ship."

"That's great."

"So." Wedge cocked his head. "Mind if I ask her out?"

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Naluma arrived with three drinks in her hands and a large tub of roasted skycorn slathered in nerf butter. She handed Antilles his golden brew and the tub of skycorn. "What's up? Looks like you guys are plotting to overthrow Madine or something?"

"Nothing." Luke smiled at her.

She then held up two cups, one light and one dark. "Two mocktails. Which do you want? The light or the dark?"

Luke chuckled as he grabbed them both from her hands and took a sip from each straw. "The light. Definitely the light. The dark is way too sweet."

"Good. More for me." She sat in the low seat beside Luke, her knees almost hitting her chin.

As she scooped a handful of corn, the master of ceremonies mounted the stage with loud applause. A two-headed Troig with four arms, red eyes, and green skin slinked onto the stage.

"Welcome, honored guests."

D'Marchetto and his friends crowded the dance floor in front of the stage as the audience cheered. He turned around and dropped his shorts, wiggling his rear at the speaker.

"That's no moon, honey, but are you sure you aren't a Hutt?"

His friends broke out in laughter.

"I'm sorry, sir, but better luck next time. You are not my type." The individual of indeterminate gender turned its gaze to the waiting crowd.

"And, now, direct from the Ring of Khafrene on their Galaxy Wide Victory Tour, we present the Togrutan Toombas."

❸ The thousands of spectators roared as the feline band with white-and-blue lekku leaped onto the stage. When the lead quetarrist strummed an opening chord, the vibrations of the speakers shook the ground. The lyrics unintelligible, only the driving pulse mattered.

The volume in the officers' section made it impossible to hear anything else. In a short time, even the stuffiest of the elite corps were moving in their seats to the thumping rhythms and catchy melodies.

Naluma rose and twisted her hips, swaying her body to the beat. She pointed her finger at Luke and pulled it toward her chest. Then she nodded her head toward the dance floor.

He shook his head. I'd better not. Not sure ...

She scrunched her nose at him and grabbed Wedge by the hand. She yelled, "Come on, Commander. Time to let loose and have some fun."

Wedge jumped, faster than Luke had seen him move in a long time.

The Padawan gyrated her hips and knocked him in his before dragging him to the dance floor.

While the next song started, Luke studied his Padawan. Her long legs and torso swayed gracefully like the gallaze on Trinta. She twisted her arms, snaking them around the back of Wedge's neck. He gripped her waist and matched her movement.

Luke gazed at her. Something about her and Wedge stoked a burning emotion in his gullet that he hadn't felt in years.

As if she knew what he was thinking, she looked at Luke for a long moment, a warm smile breaking forth. All at once, joy swelled in him, joy he could not control.

After a few more songs, the band broke into a heart-pumping beat, driving the arena into a cacophony of cheers and whistling. The dancers started hopping and then grabbing at each other. Soon, a group of rowdies had separated Naluma from Wedge.

Luke closed his eyes when he could no longer see her. The tempo changed into a beat that seemed to match the rising concern in Luke. He reached out with the Force. There. There she is. Panic rose. No. Don't do it, Naluma. I'm coming.

He felt it just like it was him there. Hands crawling over her body, grasping her rear, joining groins. D'Marchetto clutched at her uniform top, ripping the fasteners, revealing her silver tank.

The Jedi Master jumped from his seat and weaved through the crowd, pushing and shoving to get to her. When he reached the man, D'Marchetto was dangling her hair clasp in the air like it was a trophy.

Luke clenched his teeth and reigned in his anger. With a swipe of the Force he snatched the wooden square and stick that made up her hair slide. He wrapped his arms around Naluma, pulling her into his embrace. With a quick Force-shove, D'Marchetto stumbled backward, knocking over a crowd of his buddies.

Clutching her to his chest, Luke weaved her through the bouncing throng. They halted at the center of the dance floor as the music transitioned to a slow ballad.

❹ He grabbed her hand and turned to lead her off, but she pulled him back into the embrace.

"Please stay."

Her black eyes settled on his, probing into his soul. As she wrapped her long arms around his neck, she leaned into him, his hands settling on her waist.

The vocalist crooned the first lines of the song, her voice floating high above the crowd.

She stroked his face with the back of her hand, her smooth skin raising goosebumps on the back of his neck. That warmth in his gullet incandensed to a raging fire. He slammed his shields tight, not letting a wisp of thought or emotion out as the singer's words described how Luke knew what Naluma was thinking without her saying a word, without even using the Force.

As she wrapped her arms around his neck, he gave in for one moment, swaying in time to the music, leaning in to inhale her sweet perfume. Her eyes locked with his, echoing the words through their Force-bond.

With tears in his eyes, he shook his head and walked away, leaving her in the middle of the floor as the music continued.

Wedge pushed past him, knocking shoulders with him, but Naluma just stared at Luke as he left the field, the song continuing, stabbing deep into his heart as it expressed everything he felt, he knew he could have with her.

He turned back at the boundary, watching, hoping, making sure she was safe with Wedge. A sparkle from her tank captured his eyes, her perfume lingered on his tunic, but none of these could hold him there.

Did you know ...

● First or second act of Star Wars movies (other than ESB and Rogue One) usually has some sort of cantina or entertainment scene.

Tell me what you think ...

● What would have happened had Luke not left?

● What do you think went on between Naluma and Wedge that night?