The First Time

4.8 AJE

When Han Solo woke up that morning, the first thing he felt was cold, then hunger. It was winter in this part of Corellia, and Han hadn't eaten anything in the last day or two, he couldn't really remember. But whenever he longed back to the tiny, uncomfortable cot aboard the ship he'd all but grown up on, he reminded himself of why he'd fled. Hungry or not, he would rather have died than remain there. Hell, he would have if he hadn't stolen that escape pod. The money he'd gotten from selling it had long since been used up, ironically most of it stolen by someone not unlike what Han had been four years ago. Going to his relatives had been a colossal disaster, and Han swore that he would have to damn near starve before he ever considered going there again. With his hands under his arms for warmth and his breath forming a cloud in front of him he set off.

He knew that he needed to get off Corellia, but without any credits to his name there were limited options. There was a chance that he might find a billet at the commercial spaceport, but first things first. Food.

Stealing something from the myriad of restaurants in the area that started a few blocks over was one option, but he didn't feel like being chased by an enraged doorman, nor did he want to risk it with more than usual CorSec patrols. Nor did he want to rely on the kindness of strangers, but he might eventually be forced to beg, because if the weather got even colder then he would have to find shelter somewhere. But food first. After having a cursory wash and slaking his thirst at a nearby fountain, he wandered into the wealthier districts. One advantage of the increased CorSec and ImpNavy patrols in the wealthier areas of Corellia's capital city was that those that were too wealthy to know any better felt safe, and Han had the advantage of being both handsome and charming already at barely fifteen years of age. His clothes were a bit ragged, but still in good enough shape that he could pass for an errand boy that came here from the poorer sections of the city on a mission.

Han reached the area twenty minutes later and sure enough, there were already the first of the locals on their way to work. Unfortunately for him the public transport stations were heavily patrolled thanks to some misguided fools attempting to bomb a public address by the Sector Moff the week before last, and even though there would have been rich pickings for a thief such as Han, but the chances of getting caught were simply too high.

Instead he trolled around outside the station, looking for all the galaxy like any other fifteen year old human who was bored and waiting for someone to arrive on the next train. Instead he was surveying the passengers as they disembarked. He discarded those as potential marks that were either in groups or seemed to be too poor to be worth the effort.

In the end he singled out a well-dressed human woman that probably worked in one of the trading houses that dotted the northern edge of this section of the city and cautiously followed her at a discrete distance. When she didn't enter one of the taxi speeders that lined the side of the road next to the station, Han decided to follow her further. Inside the throng of beings that flooded to their places of work in spite of the cold, it wasn't difficult to close the distance of his mark, and by the time she turned to cross the street at a crosswalk Han was only a step or two behind her, and the distance was easily closed.

So, now to stumble over one's own feet like he had perfected when he was about ten years old, bumped into the woman's back and during the commotion that caused, he took her purse and slipped it into his own pockets. Then, acting as if mortally embarrassed, he dashed towards the other side of the street before disappearing in the masses.

Han walked for seven blocks before he couldn't help but look in the purse, so he ducked into a public communications booth and closed the door behind himself. The purse he had stolen was heavy, but not heavy enough that it's non-presence in the owner's pocket would be immediately discovered. Inside he found chips worth about fifty credits and a few coins worth maybe another ten. If he paced himself, that would last a few days. By then he would hopefully be on his way off this planet. But then, this was easier said than done. Most freighter captains wouldn't exactly follow Han's "no questions asked" policy, nor would they hire a relatively inexperienced youth with no formal training. Except, that was, the sort of people Han desperately wanted to avoid.

But at the same time, needs must when the devils fly, so Han decided to still try it. He had a few hours to kill. It was smartest to turn up mid-morning, when Captains had secured contracts and where desperate for every new hand they might need, even if it was only to load cargo. Everything would go towards that ticket to... anywhere else, really. So instead of going there right away, he decided to savor the warmth in this place. He closed his eyes and let the HoloNews broadcast on the screen over the counter drone on.

"..cation efforts on Turlantis have been concluded. This was brought to you by the Base Delta Zero initiative."

Han only yawned.

"In further news, rebel elements have raided several more relief convoys heading towards rimworlds still suffering from the aftermath of the Clone war. In blatant disregard for civilized conducts, those pirates have..."

Han tuned out the rest of it and decided to indulge himself by ordering another glass of his fizzy, unhealthy drink of choice. After all, 'news' from the war competed with rumours about dissident clones on the streets. As he savored the dark brown liquid, he decided that whatever happened next, one day he wouldn't have to run. One day, he would have made it. But right now...

It had taken him less than ten minutes to find someone who gave him a ride, his personal charm working it's usual effect. By that time the temperature in the city had risen somewhat, going from near-freezing to merely unpleasant. As he had predicted, it was the busiest time of the day, but inside half an hour Han had already collected half a dozen refusals. Disappointment and flagging morale drove him towards where the ever seedier element of the spacers hereabouts usually docked their ships, very far away from any of the terminals and where only few customs inspectors could ever be bothered to be all that thorough. He hated coming here, but the chances of his former 'friends' showing up here were small.

By mid-day he was once more hungry and still out of a job. He started considering stealing a ship, but how would he get the new tags he needed if he wanted to put in anywhere without the Empire clamping down on him?

Annoyed, angry and tired, he kicked an empty can which bounced off a lamppost and into the shrubbery underneath. "Damnit." he said to no one in particular. He was about to turn around and give up when he saw it.

She not all that far away, sitting there in front of his eyes near the edge of the complex. Outwardly she wasn't the prettiest he'd ever seen, but then, YT-1300 freighters weren't known for their looks. She was rusty and old, yet Han knew that somehow, somewhere this one was special. She had an almost magical attraction towards him, drawing him ever closer. The ramp was up and the thrusters on the dorsal side were spewing gas, which meant that she was about to take off, but Han didn't care. He stood there in the middle of the cold spaceport and stared as the freigher began to hover before pointing it's clamshell body at the sky and engaging the main engines. With a howl that Han Solo would remember do his dying day, the ship blasted off into the distance.

He watched until the speck had disappeared in the distance, and remained standing there, staring into the distance for a long time, and Han swore to himself that he would see that ship again.

That was the first of three times in his life that he fell in love, irredeemably, utterly and totally.

Finis