Luke was a ball of fire. Han slapped his coat at the burning parachute, trying to smother the flames.

“Roll over!” he shouted. Luke started rolling across the dirt. Slowly — too slowly — the flames flickered out.

The parachute was an ashen, blackened mess. The body hidden beneath lay motionless.

“Luke?” Leia said quietly, her voice filled with terror. “Luke!”

He moved.

Luke threw off the charred chute. His face was sooty and his body covered by sandy abrasions, but he was alive. He stood up. “I’m okay,” he said, stretching his limbs one at a time to make sure it was true. “I’m okay.”

A flood of relief washed over Han. “Close one, kid,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. If Luke had fallen from the Podracer any sooner, or any later … If his chute had malfunctioned, or if the armorweave hadn’t protected him from the flames …

Did Luke understand how close he’d come to the end? Han watched as Luke’s horrified gaze took in the simmering ruins of the Podracer.

He understood.

“The engine flamed out,” Luke said, taking a few hesitant steps. “Must have been a defective current filter. I should have had Artoo double-check it before I took off. Next time I’ll know better.”

“Next time?” Leia shook her head. “Luke, there’s not going to be a next time. You almost died. The Podracer’s destroyed.”

“Kenuun wants to win this race — he’ll give us another one,” Luke said confidently.

“And is he going to give us another one of you?”

“Give him a break, Princess.” Han slung an arm around Luke. “The kid doesn’t even know what he’s saying.”

Luke shrugged him off. “Yes I do. And a faulty current filter’s not going to stop us from completing this mission. The Rebellion needs us to win this race.”

The Rebellion needs you to live, Han thought.

But he kept his mouth shut.

Eventually, Luke got his way. Leia and Elad met with Kenuun in hopes of laying their hands on a second Podracer. The Muun had a hangar full of them — it seemed likely he’d be willing to produce another.

Han took Luke back to their makeshift campsite to rest. There were less than twenty-four hours to go before the race, and Luke knew every second counted. But he couldn’t practice without a Podracer — and he had to admit, resting sounded good. His shoulder and back throbbed from the fall, and a deep series of scrapes along his back flared with pain wherever his shirt brushed the skin.

It could have been worse, he reminded himself. Much worse.

“Whatcha thinking?” Han asked, as they sat in front of their tent, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. A few of the Podracers swooped back and forth in the distance, getting in one more run before race day.

“I would’ve had it,” Luke said. “I was getting control. If the engine hadn’t flamed out — I would’ve had it.”

“I know, kid,” Han said.

Luke looked at him in surprise. “You do?”

Han shrugged. “Sure. Don’t forget, I saw you take on the Death Star. I know what you can do.”

“Maybe,” Luke said. He’d been doing his best to act confident — but it was just that. An act. He had to convince the others that he could fly the Podracer. It was the only way they’d go along with the plan. But Luke had seen a Podrace. He knew how fast the racers traveled, how challenging even a familiar course could be. How even in the best of circumstances, things could go wrong.

And when things went wrong in a Podrace, they went very wrong.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Han said, as if he could hear Luke’s thoughts. “I wouldn’t.”

“I have to,” Luke said. “It’s the only way. And I know I can win. At least … if the Force is with me.”

“Just how big an ‘if’ are we talking here?” Han asked.

Luke drew his lightsaber. Instead of activating the beam, he just cradled the hilt in his hands. He found the heft of the cool metal comforting. A reminder of the person he was supposed to be. “I can’t control it,” Luke admitted. “The harder I try, the more impossible it seems.”

“You know I don’t think much of this Force of yours,” Han began.

Luke sighed. He wasn’t in the mood. “Can we just —”

“Slow down, kid,” Han said. “Let me finish.” He frowned at the lightsaber. “I think most of it’s a bunch of mumbo jumbo, and if you ask me, that Ben of yours was a few sabacc cards short of a deck. But —” He held up a hand to stop Luke from interrupting again. “He was a tough old guy. And he had … I don’t know. Call it the Force, call it whatever you want. I saw him take on Vader — and that was something.”

“Something, maybe. But not enough.” Luke closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the image of Vader’s red beam striking that final, fatal blow.

“He knew what he was doing,” Han said. “He could have run away, saved himself, sure. But he wasn’t trying to save himself. He was trying to save you. And he got you off that ship.”

Luke shook his head. “But that’s just it. He sacrificed himself for me, so I could become a Jedi Knight — but I can’t! Not without him. I can’t use the Force, not when I need it. I let him down.”

“So quit.”

Luke scowled. “I can’t do that. I’m not —” He stopped himself.

“Me?” Han smiled wryly. “Thanks for the compliment.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Right.” Han got serious. “I don’t mean you should quit the fight. I mean you should quit trying so hard. Look, I may not know about this Jedi stuff, but I know ships, and I know flying. And what I know is that you’ve got to trust your ship. Let her tell you what she needs. The best pilots become part of their ships. And that’s not something you try to do. You just do it. You’ve got to relax. Let it happen.”

Let go of your conscious self, Ben had urged him. Act on instinct.

Maybe Han knew more about the Jedi way than he thought.

Han stood up, giving Luke a light slap on the back. “And when I say the best pilots, kid, I’m talking about you. Oh, one more thing.”

“What?” Luke asked.

Han grinned. “Next time, try not to fall out.”