Luke Skywalker, the Last Jedi, faces his toughest challenge yet. After taking his Jedi vows, he assumes the misbelief that love has no place in his life. As a result, he denies the love he craves in order to establish the New Jedi Order and maintain...
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Taking no chances with his son, Han grabbed as many tranquilizers as the med team would give him. Four days to Khalkha with Ben and Chewie—or never, if Ben were to regain consciousness before they arrive.
As the Falcon jumped into hyperspace, Han eased back in the pilot's seat and sighed. Chewbacca moaned in commiseration. When Han jerked his head toward the hatch, the Wookiee left the cockpit.
The freighter captain closed his eyes as he contemplated the recent events. Lost my son. Lost my wife. Lost my life.
He bit back the tears. Oh, what am I going to do?
As Han ran his fingers through his dark hair, he stared at the geometric planes of hyperspace beyond the cockpit canopy, wishing he could jump inside them and submerge himself in oblivion.
Chewbacca interrupted his thoughts with a growl from the medbay.
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Han hurried to his son who struggled through a drug-induced dream. "Hand me another hypospray."
The large Wookiee unsnapped the latches on the small crate with the sedatives and handed one of the devices to Han. The smuggler positioned the cold metal against his son's neck and pressed the activator. Ben continued to struggle, his right hand hitting Han in the face, as the saline drip tubing jerked.
"Hold him down, Chewie."
The Wookiee roared as he grabbed the boy's flailing arms.
Ben's body spasmed as he yelled, "No!"
Han pulled the restraints and buckled his thrashing son to the bed.
After a few minutes of fighting against the bonds, Ben lay still.
Han rested his hands on his hips and grimaced at the thought of going through this every hour for the next four days. In the back of his mind, he worried if the hyposprays would hold out that long. Not for the first time, he was cursing that Khalkha lay so far from the known hyperspace routes.
