A cheering, gleeful throng of technicians, mechanics, and other inhabitants of the
Alliance headquarters swarmed around each fighter as it touched down and taxied into
the temple hangar.  Several of the other surviving pilots had already vacated their
ships and were waiting to greet Luke.
    On the opposite side of the fighter, the crowd was far smaller and more
restrained.  It consisted of a couple of technicians and one tall, humanoid 'droid who
watched worriedly as the humans mounted the scorched fighter and lifted a badly
burned metal hulk from its back.
    "Oh, my!  Artoo?" Threepio pleaded, bending close to the carbonized robot.
"Can you hear me?  Say something."  His unwinking gaze turned to one of the
techs.  "You can repair him, can't you?"
    "We'll do our best."  The man studied the vaporized metal, the dangling
components.  "He's taken a terrible beating."
    "You must repair him!  Sir, if any of my circuits or modules will help, I'll
gladly donate them…"
    they moved slowly away, oblivious to the noise and excitement around them.
Between robots and the humans who repaired them there existed a very special
relationship.  Each partook a little of the other and sometimes the dividing line
between man and machine was more blurred than many would admit.
    The center of the carnival atmosphere was formed by three figures who battled to
see who could compliment the others the most.  When it came to congratulatory
back-slapping, however, Chewbacca won by default.  There was laughter as the
Wookie looked embarrassed at having nearly flattened Luke in his eagerness to greet
him.
    "I know you'd come back," Luke was shouting, "I just know it!  I would've
been nothing but dust if you hadn't sailed in like that, Han!"
    Solo had lost none of his smug self-assurance.  "Well, I couldn't very well let a
flying farm boy go up against that station all by himself.  Besides, I was beginning to
realize what could happen, and I felt terrible about it, Luke—leaving you to maybe
take all the credit and get all the reward."
    As they laughed, a little figure, robes flowing rushed up to Luke in a very
unsenatorial fashion.  "You did it, Luke, you did it!" Leia was shouting.
    She fell into his arms and hugged him as he spun her around.  Then she moved
to Solo and repeated the embrace.  Expectantly, the Corellian was not quite as
embarrassed.
    Suddenly awed by the adulation of the crowd, Luke turned away.  He gave the
tired fighter a look of approval, then found his gaze traveling upward, up to the
ceiling high overhead.  For a second he thought he heard something faintly like a
gratified sigh, a relaxing of muscles a crazy old man had once performed in moments
of pleasure.  Of course, it was probably the intruding hot wind of a steaming jungle
world, but Luke smiled anyway at what he thought he saw up here.
    There were many rooms in the vast expanse of the temple, which had been
converted for modern service by the technicians of the Alliance.  Even in their
desperate need, however, there was something too clean and classically beautiful
about the ruins of the ancient throne room for the architects to modify.  They had left
it as it was, save for scouring it clear of creeping jungle growth and debris.
    For the first time in thousands of years that spacious chamber was full.
Hundreds of rebel troops and technicians stood assembled on the old stone floor,
gathered together for one last time before dispersing to new posts and distant homes.
For the first time ever the massed ranks of pressed uniforms and polished semi-armor
stood arrayed together in a fitting show of Alliance might.
    The banners of the many worlds which had lent support to the rebellion fluttered
in the gentle breeze formed inside.  At the far end of a long open aisle stood a vision
gowned in formal white, barred with chalcedony waves—Leia Organa's signet of
office.
    Several figures appeared at the far end of the aisle.  One, massive and hirsute,
showed signs of running for cover, but was urged on down the open row by his
companion.  It took several minutes for Luke, Han, Chewie, and Threepio to cover
the distance to the other end.
    They stopped before Leia, and Luke recognized General Dodonna among the
other dignitaries seated nearby.  There was a pause and a gleaming, familiar Artoo
unit joined the group, moving to stand next to a thoroughly awestruck Threepio.
    Chewbacca shuffled nervously, giving every indication of wishing he were
someplace else.  Solo silenced him as Leia rose and came forward.  At the same
time banners tilted in unison and all those gathered in the great hall turned to face the
dais.
    She place something heavy and golden around Solo's neck, then Chewbacca's—
having to strain to do so—and finally around Luke's.  Then she made a signal to the
crowd, and the rigid discipline dissolved as every man, woman, and mechanical
present was permitted to give full vent to their feelings.
    As he stood awash in the cheers and shouts, Luke found that his mind was
neither on his possible future with the Alliance nor on the chance of traveling
adventurously with Han Solo and Chewbacca.  Instead, unlikely as Solo had claimed
it might be, he found his full attention occupied by the radiant Leia Organa.
    She noticed his unabashed stare, but this time she only smiled.