Nice man- good social skills. Han reflected dryly, remembering afresh why he hated the military.
"These are the rules; take notes." The burly man walked slowly down the length of the line, "Firstly, you will refer to him when speaking to others in the third party. The Commander's own non-military Aides who are on-board will refer to him by his civilian title, which is 'The Heir'. You will not. Onboard ship, or whenever you are wearing a Fleet uniform, you will refer to him by his military title, which is Commander-in Chief; in the unlikely event that you find yourself in his presence, you will remember that he prefers simply 'Commander'. When you have referred to him once as such, you will then subsequently acknowledge him as Sir. You will do this every time you meet him; Commander then Sir. You will not try to engage him in smalltalk; he does not appreciate it. You will not go closer than four paces unless he looks to you and nods his head in permission. Even if you have to give him something you will stand and wait until he nods his head to allow you closer. If he enters a room in which you are present, you will bow smartly from the neck and bring your heels together military-style. You will practice this so that it is not sloppy when you finally have to do it. If you are in a room and the Commander is there, you may not leave without his order or his dismissal. If you need to walk away from him, you will bow and back up four paces, then and bring your heels together before you turn away. If I see anyone turn their back on him within four paces I will have you doing nightshifts on a garbage hauler for the rest of your career. You will not stand behind him closer that those magic four paces- if he turns his back on you, you will back up, as before. You will not sit in his presence unless explicitly invited to do so, which I very much doubt. You will not eat in his presence unless invited. You will not stare. You will not make conversation with civilian members of his entourage; you will remember that aside from Fleet issues, they outrank you and you will refer to them by their rank or title. You will learn their ranks and titles. You will not ask for an introduction to the Commander- it will not further you career; they have invested many years in getting to where they are now and believe me, they'll be damned if they'll help any of you replace them."
Han was starting to tune out at this point, partly as a reflex action, but partly because it was beginning to occur to him for the first time just who he was trying to get close to. Up until now, he'd just been trying to get to Luke; suddenly, in his world for the very first time, he was realising just how much had changed; he was no longer trying to steal a few minutes with that hyper kid from Tatooine, who happened to be onboard a Star Destroyer- he was trying to get to the Heir to the Imperial Throne. Someone who lived that life- this life- all bows and Sir's and entourages. Nobody stare, don't get too close; don't even think about trying to start a conversation...
It finally hit him that Luke Skywalker might not even exist anymore- not the Luke Skywalker Han knew. Five years... that was a hell of a long time to live this life, surrounded by people like this, who just kept on shoehorning you into it 'cos it was protocol, completely removed from everything normal and conventional.
It was also beginning to dawn that the kid wasn't a kid anymore; he was the Commander in Chief of the Core Fleet and next in line to rule an Empire, inaccessible and isolated.
Was it by choice or by influence?
The Personnel Officer paused to answer his comm and Han realised that once again he hadn't heard a word he'd been saying; probably wasn't important...
Signing off, the man glanced up again, glowering at the row of new Officers, "... so look upon this as your one opportunity to shine - in front of me, not the Commander. I guarantee you that he doesn't even know you exist. As far as I'm concerned, what you do from now on reflects on me, and so decides what you do here for the next twelve months, which decides the rest of your career. Don't screw up."
Han raised his eyebrows without speaking; maybe it had been important...
Seconds later, the bay's pressure door slid open and a Petty Officer sounded a triple-tone on his whistle.
"Commander on deck!" The mouthy Officer shouted with military precision as he came to smart attention, everyone straightening, heels clicking in unison-
And Luke walked in, hands behind his back, a neutral, unreadable expression on his scarred face.
He was impeccably dressed in a smart, almost military uniform in dark blue-gray, a small group of senior Officers and Aides trailing behind him- none any closer than the regulation four paces, Han noticed wryly.
He looked... different to Han- older. Which was stupid 'cos he was older, but... somehow Han had never quite reconciled the shadow-shrouded man in the Fury's detention level with - well, with Luke; with the kid. He'd just, over time, mentally replaced that image from the Fury with the one of Luke that he already knew; the real Luke. And the holo's which came in all the time from Intel well, they weren't really Luke either- not really. They were some other guy; The Heir, the enemy; whatever. Not Luke.
And now here he was again, that strange shadow-Luke. But in the plain light of day.
He seemed taller, broader; all grown up. His hair was long and unruly though, falling to loose twists almost on his shoulders- and dark, making his skin seem paler... making that scar seem deeper.
From well above his eye it sliced down his cheek, through both lips and onto his chin- that was one hell of a scar. Why did he still have it?
But then, who was Han to talk- he still had a scar on his chin from long ago. Had purposely kept it as a memory; a reminder of a lesson hard learned. Han looked afresh at the heavy scar... wondered what other scars the kid held.
Luke motioned with gloved hand for the group around him to stop and wandered slowly along the line, indifferently inspecting the new drafts...
Han's mind was racing as Luke drew ever closer; well this was a bolt from the blue- who'd have thought The Heir to the Empire routinely wandered below decks to check the new Petty Officers? He vaguely remembered confidently figuring that all he had to do was make sure he didn't get caught on the back foot again by Luke and everything would be fine - apparently that plan was already out the airlock.
If he was a smarter man, he'd probably be sweating by now.
Luke walked at a leisurely pace down the row of newcomers, already aware that Han was at the far end of the line-up but taking his time. He'd developed a habit of coming down here each time a new batch were brought onboard, knowing that eventually Han would be among them. Argot had warned weeks ago him that Solo may soon be onboard, one of five spies, four of which were already tagged. This fifth Luke would look out for himself; private business.
So he'd taken to the habit of coming down here on the pretext of a personal inspection every now and again so that when he finally needed to, it wouldn't seem out of place.
He slowed to a stop before Han, who looked slightly green, Luke eyeing him up and down in silence, though Han kept his eyes dead ahead.
"And you are?" Luke prompted finally.
"Lieutenant Solin, Sir." Han saluted smartly then hesitated; was he supposed to bow? Was that supposed to come before the salute? The Officer coughed sharply and Han belatedly realised he'd also used the wrong title, "Commander!" he corrected quickly.
Luke continued to stare as if he hadn't noticed, narrowing his eyes in contemplation, hesitating for an uncomfortably long time before finally speaking. "Don't I know you?"