Surprises

Xicanti crouched quietly in the alleyway. Like most of those in the bowels of Coruscant, it was as filthy as a womp rat's nest. The New Republic claimed that they worked as hard as they could to keep the alleys clean, but the fifteen-year-old thief knew otherwise. He had spent most of his life in the alleys, and things didn't seem to have changed much in the time since the Imperials had been kicked out. "But that's the way the world works," he muttered to himself. "The rebellion heroes and their friends get the best of things, while we street scum get less than nothing!"

But that was of no consequence at the moment. All that mattered now was the door of the tavern across the street. Said door was not very well painted or kept up, but Xicanti didn't care. He was waiting for someone very important to come out. Probably the most important person he'd ever robbed. This particular individual was known to many, and Xicanti realized that he would most likely be sought after and arrested once he'd robbed him. All his thieving and hiding skills would likely be put to the test if he messed up in even the slightest way, revealing his identity. "I'll have to leave Coruscant," he muttered to himself once more, a strange habit he shared with his twin brother, Xepher. "But that's all right with me. There's nothing here for me anymore. Just a bunch of garbage and Rebels who think they're more than they really are!" But somehow, Xicanti found that the words he spoke and the words he thought were quite different. Although Coruscant was a crowded place, filled with garbage and rich people who thought themselves superior to all others, it was his home - the only place he'd ever known. And once he'd robbed Han Solo, he'd have to leave it for at least a score of years. The captain of the Millennium Falcon had a temper quicker than his ship if provoked, and Xicanti most certainly intended to provoke him!

The boy had been waiting outside of The Hero's Conquest for more than an hour. The old tavern was one of the few which had been done in the old style of the history books. "Back before we had space travel, they were all like that!" Sharstas Crahbihn, the tavern's owner and a former thief himself, had told Xicanti. "Those were the good old days! I wish I'd been around to see them!"

"But if you'd been around to see the days before we had space travel," Xicanti had countered, "you wouldn't be able to have a tavern here, in Coruscant. Our planet wasn't one of the ones that was originally colonized, remember?"

Sharstas had guffawed at that. "And when did you become the authority on colonization?" he'd teased. "No one knows how long ago Coruscant was colonized, it's been the center of the government for so long." Suddenly, his tone changed to one more portraying his age-old melodrama. "And a good planet it is, too. I'd be hard pressed to find a nicer one." Xicanti heartily disagreed with his older friend, but didn't speak up against the issue. Sharstas liked to win, and it didn't really cost the young thief anything to let him. Once in a while.

But that, too, was not the point. The point was the tavern door. It was all that existed. It was Xicanti's entire world, until Han Solo came through it. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. Green eyes, with their odd, cat-like pupils, would watch it diligently, waiting for their chance at greatness. Until that door opened, Xicanti was planted here, in this spot. He wouldn't move an inch. No, not even a millimeter. He would remain right here until-

Suddenly, Xicanti sprang to attention. The door was opening!

A leg with a blaster strapped to it was emerging!

Han Solo was coming out!

Xicanti held his breath. If Han noticed him, he would be through. There would be no way to sneak up on him, which would be essential if the plan were to work. Xicanti was careful not to move until the esteemed hero had walked past him, stumbling slightly, as though he had been bashed in the leg very badly. Xicanti almost whooped with glee as he realized why. Han Solo, hero of the Rebellion, was dead drunk! He had also been in some sort of a bar room brawl, by the way he was limping, and not likely to be thinking about much but that. Things are gonna be a lot easier than I thought! Xicanti exclaimed to himself, keeping his speech directed inwards to avoid being overheard by his intended victim.

Once Han has passed by his alley, Xicanti slipped out with a grace only another, equally skilled thief would have been able to match. As quietly as he could, (which was more quietly than any of the other thieves, even Xepher, could move), the boy crept up behind Han, inching his hand towards the blaster strapped to the hero's leg. If he could get it, and get away without Han either catching or killing him, he would be as big a hero among the thieves as the blaster's soon-to-be previous owner was among the more elite of the galaxy's society. People would know his name. Mothers would tell their children stories of him from the time they were in their cradles. Better give them some good stuff before I die! Xicanti thought to himself. I don't want them to have to resort to making up stories about me, after all! The thought that, perhaps, no one would care he had stolen Han Solo's most prized possession never crossed his mind.

Slower now, easily keeping pace with the drunken Han, Xicanti crept closer. His hand was almost there. Another few centimeters and a thief's tug, and it would be his! The boy was close enough now to see the words some letters his mind assumed read 'Han' etched on the bottom of the blaster. Proof of who this had come from! Now, if he could only reach that little bit more...

Straining to stay both completely behind Han and quiet, Xicanti hardly realized what he had done until after he bashed into the man.

Han spun around, his drunkenness becoming even more apparent. I wonder how Princess Leia's gonna like the fact that he's this drunk... Xicanti though to himself. Smugly, he added, I'll bet she makes him sleep on the couch, like Tessa does with Rettar when he gets drunk. Han took a step towards the boy. Xicanti tensed every muscle, ready to spring forward, grab the blaster, and run. But, before he could make an action, the captain of the Millennium Falcon spoke to him. "Mara?" he asked, his words slurred from the beer. "What're you doing here? An' why're ya so dirty?"

Mara? Who was that? If Xicanti had not seen the engraving on the blaster, he would have assumed that this was just a Han Solo look-alike, not the real thing at all. As it was, he was ready to run off. But something, a force more powerful than his fear of discovery, kept him there, even made him reply. "I'm not Mara," he replied slowly. "I'm Xicanti."

Idiot! Why had he told him his real name? This was it for sure. One of the ruling class knew his name. This wouldn't have been a problem for an ordinary thief, but Xicanti was the best. He had many 'friends' among the underworld, and could likely be tracked down with only a few well placed bribes. He'd have to leave Coruscant after this incident. I wonder if Xeph'll come wi' me? the boy wondered to himself. He couldn't imagine life without his twin. Caught up in his self pity and the realization of what he had doomed himself to, Xicanti almost didn't notice that Han was talking to him again.

"You're not?" Han scratched his head in what would have been a thoughtful way, had he not been drunk. "Sick Auntie? Weird name. No weirder than Han, though!" The esteemed Rebellion hero seemed to think this last part was very funny.

Xicanti shook his head back and forth. I've got nothing more to loose, he decided. I might as well correct him. "It's not Sick Auntie, sir," he replied. "It's Xicanti. X-I-C-A-N-T-I."

Despite himself, Xicanti was proud to be telling this to the older man. His name was the only thing he knew how to spell, and he rarely gave up a chance to display this talent.

Han scratched his head again. He then seemed to feel that certain other parts of his body needed a good itching too, so he moved on to those before he replied. "Well, it's still a weird name. But that don't matter. You look like Mara, so you're comin' with me!"

The young thief certainly hadn't expected to be told such a thing! After but a few seconds of analyzing the information, however, Xicanti found himself filled with a deep and utter terror. Mara was a girl's name. Han had thought he was someone named Mara. Maybe the captain was having an affair with Mara. Maybe he hadn't been able to find her, and so wanted Xicanti instead. Not much was known about Han Solo's sexual tastes in the literal underworld of Coruscant, so the young thief had no way of knowing that Han didn't like boys just as well as girls.

Han started to walk on. When he realized that Xicanti wasn't following, he turned around and called, "Come on, kid! I don't got all night! Mara and Chewie are gonna wanna see you soon, too. Coruscant's a big place, an' I'll never find ya again if I let ya run off now!"

A wave of relief washed through the young thief. Han just wanted to take him off to see this Mara person, and someone called Chewie. But why? And who was Chewie? The name sounded vaguely familiar...

Xicanti's eyes widened as he made the connection. Chewie was what Chewbacca, the Wookiee Lord of Tattoine, was called by his friends. The fearsome Wookiee warrior was reported to be the most dangerous being in the galaxy, (in Xicanti's mind), and was reputed to literally disarm anyone who got on his bad side. Han must be taking me to him so he can torture me! the young thief decided. Well, I'll go then. It'll still make me important. Mothers will tell their children of brave Xicanti, who was tortured to death by the treacherous Wookiee Lord at the tender age of fifteen, but who never gave away any details of the whereabouts of his thieving friends, even in the end! The more he thought about it, the more the idea of martyrdom appealed to him, and Xicanti followed along meekly behind Han.

Surprisingly, the esteemed Rebellion hero stopped to wait for the boy to get beside him before continuing along his way. "Ya know what I like about ya, kid?" Han asked, slinging an arm around Xicanti's shoulders in an almost fatherly way. The young thief winced, half expecting the man to snap his neck, while his subconscious noticed he was taller than the other by a number of inches. "Ya ain't queasy. Ya know what I mean? For all you know, I could be taking you to Chewie and Mara to let them torture you!" Xicanti started at how Han had known what he had been fearing. "But I wouldn't do something like that. Nope, not good ol' Han! You just ask Luke when you meet him. I treated him real good when we first met. I made him a man! No, not in that way! I left that to some lady in a brothel somewhere." Here, Han paused to pose reflectively. "I wonder if she was human or not. I should ask him! I'll bet it was one of those girls at Toshe Station or somewhere like that. He used to hang out there a lot when he was a kid, he told me.

"But that ain't got nothin' to do with what I'm doing. Now, don't you be so impatient, you'll find out what it is soon enough. We'll be at the palace soon. Here we are at Luke's little ship now. Nice of him to let us borrow it! Now, you hop in and we'll get there real quick!"

Xicanti obeyed without question, still not knowing why he was doing it. This isn't like me at all! he thought to himself. I would never go off with someone like this. I fight when I'm in a tough situation, an' I fight good! To remind himself of this, the young thief reached beneath his tattered, dirty tunic and felt one of his knives, still safely tucked in its scabbard on its bandoleer, pretending he was scratching to cover the action. It would be an easy way out. All he'd have to do would be draw the knife out and stab Han in the back. Xicanti was almost ready to do it when he came to his senses. What was I thinking? he cried inwardly to himself. I can't kill someone! Stealing is one thing; killing is another. People like me, we steal possessions, not lives. Without a second thought, the boy removed his hand from the knife and sat back in his seat.

The ship was quick, but the traffic became thicker as they reached the area nearer to the palace, and Xicanti took advantage of this time to reflect on Xepher. Where was he? Probably back in the small room the two of them shared in the cellar most of the members of the lesser class of young thieves worked from, under the careful direction of their den-master, Rettar Smrokes. Xeph'll start wondering where I am soon, Xicanti thought. I'd better let him know I'm okay, but that I'll probably never see him again. Xicanti and Xepher were closer than either cared to admit openly, and he didn't relish the thought of leaving him. But it had to be done. The boy was firmly convinced that he would die in the formerly Imperial palace, and he wanted to say good bye to his brother before IT happened.

Carefully, Xicanti sent his mind out, searching for his brother. No nook or cranny of the city was unavailable to him this way. He could go into the minds of the members of the upper class and find out where they stored their valuables, and how to get past their security systems. But he rarely used his talent for that. It took the challenge and excitement out of thievery. Most often, it was just to communicate with Xepher.

:Xeph?: he asked tentatively. :Are you there?:

There was no answer. Not even a presence, which would have told Xicanti that his brother was sleeping. Xepher was either behind some sort of protective screen or - or, dead. "Oh, please don't let him be dead!" Xicanti moaned a quiet prayer to any one of the galaxy's many gods, hoping They would bother to listen to a poor street thief. He was worried for his brother; too worried even to pay attention to how Han was swerving about the sky drunkenly, or to take what he imagined should be his last glimpses of the beautiful, if somewhat dirty, city he had come to love.

In less time than the boy would have thought, Han had him inside the palace, and was leading him to some room deep within its confines. Had Xicanti been fully aware of everything, he would have been terrified. As it stood, he was too sad to care that he would likely die within the next half-hour. If he was lucky. If he wasn't .... well, he didn't want to think about what things would be like if he wasn't.

Han stopped before a strangely hued door of bright green. "This is where I leave ya, kid!" the esteemed hero told him. "Ya gotta go in here and wait until Lowie comes for ya! I guess I'll see you around soon." With that and a brief wave, Han left Xicanti on his own.

Right about then, the young thief could easily have escaped the palace. Despite the fact that he hadn't been paying full attention when lead through the maze of passageways and corridors, Xicanti's thieving reflexes had taken stock of everywhere he had passed through, and exactly what to say to the guards to get them to let him through. Yet, the thought of escape barely crossed his mind. "He placed his trust in me," Xicanti muttered to himself. "I've gotta respect that at least a little bit." Grimly, the young thief opened the bright green door and stepped into the room.

The interior of the strange place was as green as the outside. The walls, carpet, and furniture were all done in different shades of the color. There was a comfortable looking bed in the very center, and some strangely shaped couches along the walls. A door leading into some other part, most likely a bathroom, was along the right wall. Xicanti shrugged and went to sit on one of the chairs. Although he was quite tired from his night's activities, he had no real desire to sleep.

To try and keep his mind off of everything, the boy focused those odd green eyes of his on the door, which appeared to be only a shade duller than their bright depths. "Watching doors is familiar," he told himself. "And it's got nothing to do with Xepher, either!"

And so the door was watched in a most diligent fashion for the next hour. Xicanti stared at it so intently that he almost didn't realize that, after a long stretch of remaining closed, the door opened. A small, hairy person walked in and beckoned menacingly to Xicanti.

The boy got up and walked over to the creature. He was surprised to discover that it was not half as short as it looked from the couch. The creature was very nearly the height of the young thief, who was by no means short at just an inch under six feet, proving without a doubt that it was a Wookiee. Once Xicanti reached it, the Wookiee dropped its menacing posture and grinned. "I always wanted to do that!" it exclaimed in good, if halting, basic. "I'm Lowie, and I'm assuming you're Xicanti. Uncle Han said that was your name. I'm supposed to take you to Dad and Aunt Mar. They want to see you, as soon as they're done with the other new one."

Xicanti was startled by the Wookiee cub's use of Basic - he hadn't thought the hairy aliens could learn to form their mouths correctly - but just nodded dumbly and followed along behind Lowie. Once again, he paid little attention to his surroundings as he walked, allowing his subconscious to take it all in. The trip was not long, though. Almost immediately, Lowie stopped in front of a bright blue door. 'This is where we go in!" the young Wookiee announced. "Dad and Mara and the other one are all in there." Xicanti nodded again. He really wasn't looking forward to this encounter, but somehow he knew somehow that it needed to happen.

Lowie pushed open the door and stepped in ahead of this charge. "Dad!" the young Wookiee called. "I'm here, and I brought the Xicanti one!"

"Bring him in!" a gruff voice, with better Basic than Lowie had managed, called. Lowie did just that, leading Xicanti into the very center of the room. None of the lights were on, and Xicanti found that this hampered his seeing, which frightened him. He had never had a problem with seeing in the dark before! It had been one of the benefits of those odd, green cat's eyes he had been born with. And I guess now it's gone. Well, it was great while it lasted. Shar always tells me to enjoy things while they last, and to forget about them when they're gone. Guess I gotta do that now.

"Turn on the lights, Chewie!" a female voice called out somewhat gruffly. "I want to see this young man Han claims looks so much like me!"

The other voice, which Xicanti assumed must belong to the Wookiee Lord himself, grunted and did as he was asked. Almost instantly, the boy could see all about him. He surveyed everything, once again relying on his subconscious thieves reflexes. Over by one wall was the Wookiee Lord, a massive presence. Beside him was a pretty woman with long red hair. Like mine, Xicanti thought to himself absently. Red wasn't a common color on the streets. But a hell of a lot less matted and dirty! Beside the woman, (who must be Mara, the boy decided), was yet another figure, one that Xicanti knew better than anyone else in the galaxy. Immediately, the melancholy that had pervaded his thoughts for the past few hours faded away.

"Xepher!" Xicanti cried, running to his twin and hugging him so hard the other boy was lifted straight off the ground! "I thought you were dead! I couldn't find you when I tried, and believe me, I tried hard. But you're not dead! You're alive! And so am I!"

Xepher smiled at his brother. "Yeah, we're both alive!" he replied. "But I won't be for much longer if you don't stop tryin' ta squeeze my guts out!"

Xicanti looked at his brother, slightly ashamed. "Sorry," he mumbled, and released the other boy. He then turned to the two beside them. "Are you going to kill us?" he asked, trying his hardest not to sound like the small child he suddenly felt he was.

Mara glanced over at Chewie. "Well, Wookiee Lord," she asked, a hint of evil in her voice, "should we kill them?"

Chewie shrugged. "I dunno, Grey Jedi," he replied. "But whatever we do, we should tell them first."

Mara nodded. "That'd be best. And we should bring in Luke and Leia. If you're theory's correct and that's a big if they're involved too." She pushed some sort of a button on the wall nearby, and within seconds two people appeared. They looked much alike, only one was male and the other was female. Xicanti recognized them both instantly from the few holo vids Rettar had shown him.

"You're Luke Skywalker!" he exclaimed. "You destroyed both the Death Stars! And killed the Emperor!" He then looked at the woman. "And you must be Princess Leia! You did... uh, good stuff too!" Realizing all of a sudden that he had just addressed royalty, Xicanti tacked on a quick, "Your Highness."

Leia laughed. "There's no need for that between family!" she exclaimed. She then looked up at Mara. "Do they know yet?" When Mara shook her head, Leia replied. "Well, I guess we'll leave the telling to Chew. He was the one who discovered them, after all!"

Chewie nodded and cleared this throat. "We know for a fact that both of you are thieves of most disreputable character," he began, evidently trying to flatter them into accepting whatever it was he was about to tell them, "and that you are orphans. Well, we sought you out because we know who your parents are. And you are most certainly much too high in status to be doing your thieving from the streets!

"With a little help from some former Imperial slaves, we have discovered that the two of you are the last children of Darth Vader, formerly known as Anakin Skywalker, and Mara's mother, whose name does not exist in any of our records. Your resemblance to Mara proves this relationship. We can do tests later to ensure that you are, in fact, Vader's youngest sons. Even if you aren't, we'll still make sure you get something better than the life you've been leading, just to make up for the serious mistake we've made."

"That's right!" crowed a now-sober Han as he entered the room. He pointed an accusatory finger at Xeph and said, "You didn't believe me then. Do you now?"

Xeph nodded, leaving Xicanti to wonder what they were talking about. I'll have to ask him about it later, he thought to himself. To Xepher, he thought, :Look at that, Xeph! We've actually got a family, an' they're important people! Guess that means we will be too someday, huh?:

Xepher didn't reply, but the look on his face said it all. The twins had finally found a stable place to belong, and a family to share it with.

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