Whew, it's been a while since I've been on this site. To all my "Little One" readers, I haven't forgotten you or the story, I promise! It's just being stubborn that's all, and I've been supremely busy. In fact, I should have been studying today, but I spent all afternoon and evening writing this because I just had to finish it before Candlemas!
For those of you who aren't aware, the Christmas season technically begins on Christmas Eve and goes forty days, all the way to Candlemas on February 2, so I am perfectly in my rights to still submit a Christmas story, lol!
This story is technically a sequel to "Weather Report," but it can be read without knowing that that story at all. Like that story, there are lots of OC Imperials in this story, and unless you've read my other fics, just take them as random Imperials thrown in to spice the story up.
"No."
Luke Skywalker stomped his foot, crossed his arms, shook his head, and gave the firmest, hardest, meanest, most defiant glare he could muster.
Leia's eyes bore right through it.
His expression crumbling, Luke tried pleading. "Please, Leia…"
Leia still stared at him silently.
"I'm not doing it!" Luke again tried defiance.
Leia only stared at him.
Throwing his hands in the air, Luke yelled, "Will you just say something?!"
"You're going," Leia said and left the room.
A bark of a laugh issued from the corner of the room where Han Solo stood leaning against the wall, his arms crossed casually. "That argument was over fast."
"Shut up," Luke grumbled, plopping himself down on a bench. "I found this place for us to use, and I still have to do this?"
"Come on; it didn't end that badly last time," Han shrugged.
Now Luke just stared at Han.
"What?" Han asked innocently.
Luke stood up in an instant and marched around the room, ranting irritably: "Han, last time we had to do this, not only did our informant get beaten up, but he beat us up first! I received my first drink while also getting the first Imperial chorus of happy birthday I've ever had, and then everything turned into a brawl! Just look at my lip! It's still swollen! You'd think the freezing cold in this place would help with that!"
Motioning furiously to his slightly swollen lip where he had been punched just a month previously in a bar room brawl for a Rebel mission, Luke glared at Han, daring for him to try and argue the point.
Han simply sighed. "I thought it was some good fun, and last time I checked, you were participating in that brawl."
"Yeah, I was," Luke admitted. "But I promised myself that would be the last time."
"Luke, for Force's sake, you won't know if there will be a brawl this time," Han argued.
"How is it that whenever there's a mission involving you, there's also a bar thrown into the equation?"
"Just lucky, I guess," Han smirked. "What could make a mission more enjoyable than a bar?"
"Han, I'm not going,"
"Come on, kid, it'll be better than last time,"
Luke rolled his eyes. "I don't trust you when you try to give me reassuring advice."
Han looked hurt. "What? First you don't trust my opinion on liquor, now you don't trust my reassurances?"
"You reassured me on that mission that everything would be fine,"
"Everything was fine! We got the information about Hoth that we needed, and now we're establishing a base on this blasted snowball! What more could you want?"
"I'd like to get out in one piece!" Luke answered.
"You're killing me, you know," Han said melodramatically, stabbing an imaginary knife into his heart. "Right here,"
Luke sighed heavily.
"Besides, you don't have a choice in the matter," Han's cocky smile returned as his hands relaxed to his sides. "Her Worshipfulness said you're going, so that's that."
Luke moaned.
"You'll be in my charming company," Han said to cheer Luke up.
It wasn't working.
"Well, fine; you can sit here and brood while I go prep the ship," Han shrugged, waving a dismissive hand at Luke. "We'll have fun this time, just like last time."
Luke snorted.
Han ignored Luke's reaction and left, leaving Luke alone in the small frozen room. They were on Hoth, having just begun to establish a base there after Han and Luke had made sure that the space around Hoth was Imperial-free; that was what the last mission had been about. They had needed to meet with an Imperial contact who had information concerning Imperial whereabouts in the Anoat Sector where Hoth was located, and the meeting place was a bar on Handooine.
Looking around the room, Luke shivered and walked out into the hall. The first thing that had been installed in the base was a heating system, but it didn't seem to be doing much good.
Following the hall to the only hangar bay properly fitted, Luke caught sight of Han prepping the stolen Imperial shuttle, the Demolisher, for the trip. Luke slowly made his way over to the ship and then sat on a crate beside it. "At least it won't be freezing over there,"
"Now you're getting it," Han nodded as he checked everything over from the outside. "We'll be back before you know it."
"Just don't try to reassure me," Luke sighed. "I'm afraid you'll jinx it."
"I thought Jedi don't believe in that stuff," Han said smartly.
"I'm not exactly a Jedi," Luke sighed again, heavier than before.
"I'm sure Kenobi would be proud of you," Han smiled. "Hey, since it's Christmas, maybe he'll come haunt you like in that one story, whatever that thing was called…"
Luke rolled his eyes. "Fix the ship, Han, before you hurt yourself."
Han did the rest of his check-over on the shuttle in silence and then the two boarded as Chewbacca waved good-bye, a big grin on his face.
"What's he smirking about?" Luke muttered irritably as he sat in the cockpit with Han.
"He knows we'll have a good time," Han settled himself into the pilot's seat and took the helm. "So let's go have fun."
Activating the thrusters, Han flew the ship out of the hangar and into the sky. The Demolisher burst through the atmosphere quickly, entering the black cold silent abyss of space.
"Force, I missed seeing stars," Luke said as he stared at the view. "It's always so gloomy and cloudy on Hoth."
"It's always so blasted cold on Hoth," Han shook his head. "I'm glad we're getting out of there for a while."
"So what's this place called?" Luke asked, leaning back into the seat and accepting his plight.
"It's officially known as Imperial Outpost 11380," Han snorted. "Can't you tell Imperials are so original? Anyway, I've heard the nickname for it is the Blowout, but why it's called that, I'm not so sure."
"That's not very reassuring,"
Han smirked. "You said you didn't want me reassuring you."
Luke rolled his eyes for what seemed the hundredth time that day.
"Stop being so gloomy," Han laughed. "Honestly, you were funnier when you were terrified of the mission."
"I've got some experience in it now," Luke said irritably, shoving down the butterflies that had already been in his stomach. Purely out of curiosity, Luke then asked, "Han, you were in the academy; did Imperials really celebrate Christmas?"
Han squinted at nothing and then shrugged. "Some did, some didn't. It depended on the person, really."
"Imperials celebrating Christmas…" Luke muttered to himself. "It's a good thing we're going to the bar; I think seeing Imperials celebrating the holiday would be a bit too odd an ordeal for me to handle."
"You don't think they'll be celebrating at the bar?"
"Well, people go to a bar at the holidays to forget that they're alone, don't they?" Luke surmised. "I would think they'd want to forget the holiday, too."
As the signal for the exit from hyperspace beeped loudly, Han and Luke sat up. The streaking blue and white kaleidoscope flattened and slowed, twisting into a splash of black speckled with white stars. Straight ahead, Han and Luke could see a dull grey space station.
"Imperial space stations make me nervous," Luke shuddered. "They remind me too much of the Death Star."
"So now you're mentioning the Death Star without panicking," Han sighed.
"I only had issue with you mentioning it last time because we were surrounded by Imperials!"
The console beeped, informing Han and Luke that there was an incoming transmission from the station. Han pressed a button and a voice said, "Unidentified frigate, please send in clearance codes."
As Han did so, Luke's eyes wandered to splotches of grey that floated to the right of the outpost and his stomach suddenly lurched. "Han…"
"What?"
"Those are Star Destroyers over there," Luke motioned to the splotches of grey.
Han looked at them for a moment and then exchanged a nervous look with Luke. "Well… it can't be too bad…"
They were cleared for landing and Han maneuvered the shuttle into one the bays. The atmosphere was tense between the two as they saw Lambda-class shuttles bearing insignias of Imperial fleets.
"Is that Killer Squadron?!" Luke hissed, pointing to one of the shuttles.
"It gets better," Han whispered, his voice a little tremulous. "There's one from Death Squadron."
Luke's blood froze. "What?"
The door to the hangar opened and a man in a grand admiral's white uniform entered the hangar. He was rather young for his rank, but his appearance was strong, mature, and commanding. Han and Luke hesitantly looked at each other. They had assumed the ranks of lieutenant and ensign, respectively, so they needed to stay out of the man's way. Unfortunately, the man noticed them and paused.
"Which fleet are you from?" the grand admiral asked with a slight Coruscanti accent.
"Uh…" Luke and Han once again shot looks at each other, this time of horror. "We—"
"Hey, I remember you!" the grand admiral laughed lightly, pointing at Luke, who felt like his legs had just turned to liquid. He could practically feel himself melting and slipping onto the floor in a puddle as he tried to disappear despite being in the grand admiral's direct line of sight. "You had a birthday on Empire Day, right? You were on Handooine?"
"Eh… well…" Luke stammered as Han tried to slink away.
"And then you fought for Reivilo," the grand admiral suddenly seemed annoyed.
Belatedly, Luke recognized the grand admiral as one of the two who had started the fight in that bar. "Um, well… I just…"
"You just what?" the grand admiral demanded. "Speak up!"
"Reivilo just intimidated him too much," Han said smoothly.
The grand admiral snorted in disapproval. "You should be more afraid of me."
Luke nervously stared at the grand admiral, not quite knowing how to react to that statement. The grand admiral then sighed and said, "You haven't seen a young lieutenant running around, have you? It seems Death Squadron has lost one of its officers."
"No," the two immediately answered.
A giggle was suddenly heard behind them, making Han and Luke jump. The grand admiral raised an eyebrow and walked slowly towards Han and Luke, but he was looking passed them.
"Are you sure you don't know where that lieutenant has gone?" he asked.
Luke turned around and saw a figure hiding in the shadows. "That might be him."
The grand admiral, whose name Luke suddenly remembered was Morlev, sighed heavily, seeming exasperated.
"So Death Squadron's here," Han slipped in casually. "Where's Lord Vader?"
"Lord Vader is indisposed at the moment," Grand Adm. Morlev replied before addressing the giggling figure. "Lt. Lo, come out. Your superiors have been worrying about you."
A young lieutenant with strikingly similar features as the grand admiral seemingly materialized out of nowhere, a huge grin on his face. The grand admiral motioned for the lieutenant to follow him, which the officer did until he saw Luke. He immediately froze, his brow furrowing.
"I've seen you before," he said.
"On Handooine, right?" Luke immediately offered, his skin tingling as his stomach knotted even tighter. "Yeah, that was quite a mess, wasn't it?"
The lieutenant looked confused, cocking his head to the side. "Handooine?"
"Lieutenant," Morlev called, growing impatient.
"Is Handooine a space station?" Lt. Lo continued. "Because I could've sworn I saw you both on a space station somewhere."
"Sorry, you've got the wrong guys," Han quickly answered, keeping his tone casual.
"Lieutenant,"
Lo sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "I'm coming…"
The two men left the hangar, giving Luke and Han time to catch their breath.
"Who was that guy?" Han gasped.
"It doesn't matter; he saw us on the Death Star," Luke replied, his voice shaking. "We're in a lot of trouble if he realizes that we weren't wearing Imperial uniforms on that space station."
"Who the heck would remember how we look? Everyone on the Death Star was killed!" Han shook his head.
"He's part of Death Squadron, Han. He probably was with Vader when we escaped."
"Well he'd better not be at the bar," Han sighed. "Come on; let's go."
"Who in the name of heaven would choose this place as a contact point, anyway?" Luke muttered. "I can understand last time, I suppose; at least that was on a planet… but this… we're on an Imperial naval station, Han. How are we going to get out of this?"
"I thought you had more experience and were therefore calmer," Han pointed out.
"Not when there's an officer here who knows us," Luke's tone betrayed his anxiety.
"Take it easy, Luke," Han whispered, placing a hand on Luke's shoulder. "All we have to do is avoid the guy."
"Hopefully it'll be as easily done as it's said," Luke sighed and led the way out of the hangar.
The hallway was as drably colored and decorated as any Imperial facility. Its walls, floor, and ceiling were all grey, and there was nothing remotely comfortable, relaxing, or homely about it. Luke looked curiously at Han.
"Do you remember which way it is to the bar?"
Han rolled his eyes dramatically. "Really, Luke? They just told us yesterday, you know."
"I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy trying to find a way out of it," Luke snapped, causing Han to laugh.
"If I recall correctly, they said it would be the last door on the right."
The two walked to the door and opened it to reveal that Han's memory had served him well… or at least they thought so. When the door first opened, smooth jazz was heard and the smell of liquor and cigarettes wafted in the air, but when the two got a closer look, the room turned out to be more of a lounge than just a bar, and it was extremely crowded. The clientele had to be Imperials since it was an Imperial space station, but their attire, which consisted of Christmas party gowns, robes, and tunics, certainly did nothing to prove their affiliation. The women were dazzling, the men handsome, and the mood relaxed.
"This is the bar?" Luke raised an eyebrow.
"Well they said meet the contact at the bar," Han shrugged. "I—"
"So you just assumed it would be a bar?" Luke interrupted in exasperation.
Han defensively replied, "Hey, there's nothing wrong with a lounge,"
"No, but we weren't expecting to be where the entire station's crew was, either," Luke pressed.
Their entrance into the lounge became unavoidable at that point when a tan-skinned man dressed in lusty red noticed them in the doorway. He smiled a grin that exuded confidence and grabbed the two, dragging them into the room.
"Hello!" he welcomed cheerfully. "Who might you two be?"
"Ben Lars," Luke answered automatically. It had been his alias on the last mission, and they had all figured it was safer to use a name that had been known before so he had a "past history" with anyone who might recognize him.
"Name's Lando Dewlanna," said Han. "How about yours, pal?"
"Numel Sanus at your service," Numel said with a joking bow. "Now you two have to pay the toll."
Han and Luke exchanged confused and worried glances. "Toll?"
"Yes, indeed; there is a toll!" Numel laughed as his right hand did a balancing act to ensure that he didn't spill his whiskey. "You either must forfeit whatever presents you brought to the party or face the consequences!"
"Presents?" Now Han and Luke were just completely bewildered.
"Oh, come off it," Numel went on. "It's a Christmas party! You're supposed to bring presents! You two are troublemakers and stingy too!"
"Uh, we forgot," Luke offered.
Numel huffed. "Well then you'll have to face the consequences."
"What consequences?" Han asked warily.
"Everyone who didn't bring a present has to sing a song by the piano for the whole party to hear."
Luke wasn't quite sure whether he should be relieved that it wasn't worse or horrified at the idea of it. Han sure looked horrified.
"Sing a song?" Han repeated.
"Yep!" Numel turned to face the rest of the crowd. "We've got two more free-loaders here! Throw 'em up in the front with the rest!"
Everyone laughed and Numel shoved Han and Luke into the crowd. People pushed, pulled, shoved, and guided them to the front where the piano sat, and they ended up alongside a group of others who had been similarly punished. Some looked amused at the idea, others supremely irate, and even more looked terrified.
A woman with mocha colored skin, a suave body—with a skin-tight gown to accentuate it—and thick light brown locks that bounced to her shoulders approached the group. Luke felt himself blush, and Han raised an eyebrow as he admired the view. Noting Han's reaction, Luke sighed, muttering, "You're hopeless,"
"I'm not allowed to admire art?" Han whispered in return.
The woman carried a basket full of red ribbons, and as she approached each member of the group, she tied a ribbon around the person's wrist. When she tied it around Luke's, she said, "Now you're marked, sweetheart. You can go, but just remember that we'll find you when we need a songbird."
Luke gulped and nodded as the color in his cheeks steadily reddened.
Han's reply to her statement when it was spoken to him was simple: "Hey, you can find me anytime you like, honey,"
Luke sighed heavily.
After the group was allowed to disperse, Luke hissed, "Remember we're here for a reason, Han."
"Oh yes we are," Han said, his eyes not leaving the woman's figure. "A pretty darn good reason, too."
"Not that one, Han,"
"You're no fun, Luke. She's just asking for me. She's got me written all over her delicious—"
"Han,"
Han sighed dramatically. "Luke, you're sucking the life right out of me."
"I'm trying to keep your life right where it belongs," Luke answered. "How do you know she isn't armed?"
"I'd love to try and find out,"
Luke ignored the comment and walked to the bar. "If they mentioned the contact would be at the bar, then he's bound to be here somewhere."
"Hey, do you know if it's the same guy as last time?" Han asked. "Because I'd love to return the favor from Handooine,"
"I don't think punching him would be in our best interests," Luke sighed.
When the bartender approached, Han ordered a Corellian whiskey.
"And you?" the bartender looked at Luke.
Luke smiled a little at the recollection of his last drink. "I'll have a Bantha Blaster, thanks,"
"Ah, so the taste went well with you, huh?" Han smirked as the bartender left.
"I think it's grown on me," Luke replied. "So what's the plan? Same as last time?"
"Pretty much," Han laughed. "I doubt anybody was concerned with trying to crack code last time we exchanged information."
Luke faced away from the bar and leaned an arm on it as he observed the lounge. It was decked in gold and red and held a rich atmosphere as Christmas jazz played from the piano. The mood was calm as Imperials chatted, drank, and laughed. Somehow it seemed comfier than the last time Luke was undercover, but that was also because he was scared out of his mind last time.
Suddenly he recalled the terror quite vividly as he spotted a familiar lieutenant sitting nearby.
"Blast it," Luke swore under his breath.
Han jumped at Luke's words and looked at him. "What is it?"
"It's that Lo person," Luke pointed out the lieutenant. "He's here."
Han swore more harshly than Luke and then quickly averted his gaze. The lieutenant in question didn't seem to notice all the scrutiny, and was instead enjoying himself greatly with a group of Imperials who were playing dejarik. The lieutenant smiled triumphantly as he defeated his opponents, who all grumbled at the loss.
"Just keep your head down," Han whispered.
As soon as his statement was made, the music that was playing finished and everyone applauded. Then someone sitting beside Luke noticed the red ribbon tied on his wrist, and grabbing Luke's arm and waving it in the air to show everyone else, he exclaimed to the crowd, "Hey, here's our next musical selection!"
Everyone applauded as both Luke and Han moaned audibly.
"Yep. Well done." Han grumbled. "Great way to keep your head down."
"It's not my fault!" Luke hissed before he was shoved towards the piano.
The pianist gave Luke an apologetic smile, recognizing his anxiety, and asked the crowd if they had any requests.
"I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas!" one person shouted. Luke gulped. He wasn't a particular fan of singing in public… oh well; at least he knew the song.
The pianist began to glide his hands across the keyboard for an intro, and Luke had to grab all his resolve. His eyes briefly darted to Han, who was watching the lieutenant. He then looked at the lieutenant as well and noticed that the man was watching him quite intently.
For the love of all things sacred, please just let me get out of this alive, Luke thought desperately.
His mind was so overtaken with the lieutenant's scrutiny that Luke forgot to sing and realized that the pianist had been repeating the same intro about four times by now. The irate look the musician was giving him was a good indicator that he needed to open his mouth or be booed off the stage with a great many projectiles being thrown his way.
Luke quickly burst into song, but his nerves rushed his singing, and his trembling voice quickly began to skip ahead of the accompaniment, causing the pianist to try and speed up. When Luke realized what he had done, he quickly attempted to slow the tempo, much to the consternation of the accompanist, who then had to slow his tempo. It sounded like a strange echo in the room, and the frenzied flying of fingers happening at the piano revealed the pianist's hasty attempts to compensate for Luke's poor musicianship. The more the two tried to synchronize their tempos, the more it fell apart until Luke finally just finished the last stanza in one hasty breath and the pianist nearly fell of his chair trying to finish on time with him, much to everyone's amusement.
Hastily fleeing the stage before the musician threw his piano at him, Luke quickly returned to his seat and ducked his head low to avoid everyone's stare. Despite the gravity of the situation with the lieutenant, however, Luke even heard Han laughing loudly and thumping the bar in delight.
"I hate you," he muttered so only Han could hear.
"What are you talking about, Ben? You brought the house down!" Han roared before getting up and running to the stage to volunteer his voice. Luke watched in alarm, but he realized it was probably best; the lieutenant would see them and remember them together and then be distracted by something else, rather than be reminded of them twice if they sang at two completely different times.
Of course that begged the question as to why Han didn't just remove the ribbon. Luke had forgotten. What was Han's excuse?
Luke sighed. Because he's Han. That's why.
Han took a request to sing Sleigh Ride and Luke hazarded a glance at the accompanist. The man looked disheveled from his last number; his sleeves were rolled up, the top tie on his robe was unfastened, his hair seemed to be spilling out of the carefully constructed ponytail he had made with it, and his spectacles were half fallen off his face. Luke suddenly felt guilty, and the pianist looked all the more wary as he began to play for Han. However, Han nailed the number, singing out in a loud voice and even encouraging the crowd to sing the refrain with him. Luke's guilt and worry quickly melted away as he began to seethe with annoyance, and he snatched his drink when the bartender brought it out, gulped the whole thing down, and demanded a refill.
At the end of the number, Han was applauded the whole way to the bar, where he triumphantly held his glass of whiskey up and toasted the audience.
After taking a smug swig of his drink, Han flashed a smile at Luke. "How was that?"
"Shut up,"
"Now, now, there's no need to get testy," Han laughed. "I can't help that I'm a better singer than you."
"I guess we've just given up on ever laying low on a mission," Luke sighed as his anger began to fade away. Han laughed some more in reply. He then noted Luke's empty glass. "Take it easy, Luke. You need to be sober for the meeting."
"It's Ben, remember?"
"Oh, right, B—"
"Ben, not Benny Boy," Luke interrupted automatically, causing Han to chuckle. "Besides, you told me Bantha Blasters are some of the weakest drinks. I can hold down a few."
"Not when you're not used to drinking. Just take it easy, okay?"
Luke looked affronted. "Now I can't hold down my liquor?"
"I never said that—"
"Yes you did!" Luke snapped, and just to prove Han wrong, he grabbed the refill before the bartender could place it down and drank the contents in one gulp. He slammed the glass on the bar and looked stubbornly at Han, fighting with all his might the sudden urge to cough as the alcohol burned his throat. His conflict must have shown on his face, because Han only started to laugh.
Growing annoyed, Luke stormed away from the bar and brooded in a corner of the lounge. Han smirked and took his whiskey, following Luke when he suddenly paused and began to turn red. His smile was threatening to burst across his whole face, and Luke could see him visibly fighting the urge to laugh out loud. What was the matter with him?
"Hello, handsome," a sultry voice said, making Luke jump. He turned and saw the same woman who had tied the ribbon to his wrist approaching him, swinging her hips and giving him a seductive smile. Luke stood in horror, not knowing what calamity would come next, but certainly not expecting what did follow. The woman placed her hands on his chest and slid them all the way around his torso to his back so she was pressed against him, and, just as his eyes began to widen in alarm, she put her thick moist lips over his and pressed him against the wall. As Luke stared at her wildly, a small piece of greenery hanging just above them caught his attention, and he noted in dismay that he had managed to wander under some mistletoe.
Han had apparently run into a similar predicament, though he accepted the challenge quite readily and snatched the nearest woman, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a passionate kiss. The woman in question, dark-skinned, blue-eyed, small in stature, and dressed as close to her officer's uniform as possible, looked at Han in alarm as he kissed her until she finally shoved him off and smacked him, causing a roar of laughter from those nearby.
"You—you—!" the woman stammered in rage.
"Easy, Zhymmia," one man laughed. "You got caught under the mistletoe."
As Han nursed his wounded cheek, Luke, on the other side of the room, was still trying to fight his partner-in-mistletoe off. When he finally managed to pry himself loose, she placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping him against the wall, and said, "I'm Seth. You?"
"Lu—Ben," Luke quickly compensated, too stunned from the kiss to try and answer her properly.
"Lu-Ben?" Seth laughed, and her laugh was like ringing bells. "Merry Christmas, Lu-Ben,"
"You too," Luke murmured as he tried to slip away. Just as he was attaining his freedom, however, he caught sight of Lt. Lo, who was just two steps away and was starting to take notice of him.
Quickly turning around once more to face Seth, Luke gave a sheepish smile.
Meanwhile, Han hauled his wounded pride back to the bar as he attempted to search for Luke in the crowd. He quickly had his whiskey refilled to help soothe his rattled nerves, and then, after catching sight of Luke, decided it would probably be prudent to order another Bantha Blaster for the kid.
Finally, Han remembered that they were there for a reason.
Getting the attention of the nearest Imperial, Han said, "Merry Christmas, pal,"
"Merry Christmas," the man said in return.
The code Han and Luke were using was a simple one very similar to the one they used on their last mission. They wished the person a merry Christmas, the person tapped on the bar twice, they tapped twice in return, and then spoke in code. This Imperial didn't tap on anything, so Han scratched him off the list.
As Han turned to face the other patrons at the bar, he spotted the woman who had been kissing Luke sitting just beside him. Except… no, she couldn't be the same woman; she looked exactly like her, but she was wearing a more modest gown that, while it exposed her shoulders, went all the way to her knees and was tastefully configured to her features without hugging them, and her hair was in a bun. Somehow she looked even more beautiful than the other woman.
Han still was confused. "Aren't you…?"
The woman seemed to understand his confusion and gave an amused smile. "She's my sister."
"Ah," Han nodded. "Well Merry Christmas to you,"
"Thank you," the woman smiled, but she didn't tap on anything. "Merry Christmas to you too. Oh, by the way, have you been to one of these parties before? You didn't bring a present, so I thought maybe you were new."
Han threw his hands up in playful defeat. "You caught me,"
"Nice singing, by the way," she commented before continuing. "Since you're new, I'd better tell you that we're going to be drawing lots in a bit to find out who's going to be Father Christmas and Mother Christmas. They're the heads of the party, and they have to hand out all of the gifts that were taken in the doorway."
"Sounds like fun," Han smiled in a charming manner. He then turned and looked at Luke again before returning his gaze to the woman. "Your sister's quite the woman."
"Her name's Seth, and I'm Simetra," the woman smiled before her eyes glanced where Han had just been looking. A slender eyebrow crept up on her brow and she sighed. "Excuse me,"
"Hey, hey, I'll join you," Han stood as she did, and the two walked over to the corner of the room together.
Luke was attempting to look as calm as he could as Seth was continuously kissing him on the face, lips, and neck. Han wasn't sure whether Luke was trying to fight the fact that he was enjoying it, or if he was just terrified; the fact that Luke's eyes were wider than was physically possible for a Human had to denote that something was wrong. Upon catching sight of Han, he looked at him pleadingly.
"Seth," Simetra said in a somewhat irritated voice.
Seth paused from her expedition to look at her sister. "Hello, Simetra. Can we help you?"
"Stop hogging the mistletoe and the poor ensign," Simetra sighed.
If any look in the history of the universe had ever conveyed an unspeakable amount of gratitude, it was most certainly the look Luke gave Simetra at that moment.
Seth sighed in exasperation before releasing her prisoner and joining her sister elsewhere in the lounge.
"Having fun, were we?" Han smirked at Luke.
"Don't," Luke immediately snapped as he tried to catch his breath. "Don't you dare,"
"I'm rather enjoying this party," Han remarked, enjoying Luke's predicament. "We should come to more of these things. I mean, seriously, last time was a blast, and this time's looking to be even better. No wonder they call this place the Blowout; they throw some great parties here!"
"Lovely. So the next time we get a mission, you won't need me!" Luke retorted.
"All right, everyone, it's time to draw lots!" someone announced, catching Luke and Han's attention.
Luke stared in bewilderment. "What?"
"That Simetra woman was just telling me about this," Han told him. "She said we draw to see who Father Christmas is. I guess the ladies draw to be Mother Christmas, because she mentioned that too…"
Two people passed a can around the room, one for the men and one for the women, and each person would draw out a slip of paper. If the paper was green, then that person was to be Father or Mother Christmas and hand out the presents.
So naturally, it was to Luke's dismay (but just his luck in Han's opinion) that he had to pull the green piece of paper out of the container.
"We have our Father Christmas!" the man said as he held Luke's hand in the air and everyone cheered.
"Hey, now Seth can sit on your lap and tell you what she wants for Christmas," Han smiled.
"Just die, Han,"
Everyone marshaled Luke into the center of the room and then put him on the stage along with Mother Christmas, who, much to Han's disappointment, was not Seth but was a woman who looked well-seasoned, jovial, and gentle.
"All hail King Ben and Queen Moeema!" everyone laughed.
"Now they have to have the first dance!" Numel yelled from the back.
Luke's expression quickly changed from embarrassment and exasperation to horror as Queen Moeema led him in front of the stage to the dance floor. The pianist (who seemed to have managed to reassemble his features after his harrowing experience with Luke) was happily relieved by a band, and the music began to play.
Luckily for Luke, Moeema seemed kind enough to lead for him since his feet were doing nothing but stumbling across the floor. As Han relished watching Luke nearly step on his dancing partner's toes at least half a dozen times, he noticed the woman who had smacked him, Zhymmia, accidentally lingering under the mistletoe. He suddenly lost interest in Luke and was debating whether he should try to woo her this time before kissing her or if he should just avoid the vicinity altogether. However, Lt. Lo walked by her and began to talk to her when she noticed her predicament, and instead of storming away as she did with Han, she suddenly blushed and looked nervous.
"What? What's he got that I don't?" Han huffed, his pride hurt, when a man beside him said, "Merry Christmas, friend,"
Han was tempted to pay him no mind, but he heard two gentle taps on the table and his attention immediately turned to the man in question.
As for Luke, there had been only a few moments in his life that he deemed memorably terrifying. The search for his aunt and uncle was the top moment, closely followed by the rescue on the Death Star and the destruction of the Death Star.
And then this incident.
Luke stumbled again as he turned left while Moeema was going right and the weight on either partner caused them to sway back and forth like pendulums until Moeema laughed and readjusted everything.
As Luke began to count the faces in the crowd just to keep his mind off the terrifying prospect that he was actually expected to dance when he barely knew how, the music mercifully came to an end. Moeema gave Luke a reassuring smile and said she enjoyed the dance.
Luke wanted to return the compliment; she was a fine dancing partner… but he was more likely to say that he enjoyed it as much as one enjoyed eating nails.
The last part of the ceremony of Moeema and Luke's sudden coronation finally began as the two were handed bags full of gifts. Luke was to hand out the men's gifts while Moeema handed out the women's gifts.
After meeting every single Imperial who could possibly kill him while he was undercover on that space station, Luke finally was released from his kingly duties and allowed to return to the bar, where he promptly ordered another Bantha Blaster.
Han joined him shortly afterward and refrained from laughing upon seeing his stressed appearance.
"Something wrong? I thought you did quite well as Father Christmas," he commented.
"I need a drink, that Imperial contact, and a vacation," Luke moaned. "In that order,"
"Aw, come on, it's not that bad,"
"I just gave a gift to Lt. Lo, who then proceeded to try and ask me if I was on the Death Star,"
Han shot Luke an alarmed look. "Well that's not good."
"We have to find that contact and get out of here," Luke shook his head.
Han paused and considered Luke's statement. He was tempted to tell Luke that he had already spoken to the contact. Then he just shrugged. He wanted to have fun, anyway. "Don't worry, kid; we'll find him in good time. You sit here and drink while I… mingle."
For once Luke didn't argue, and it left Han quite happy as he trotted away to find Seth.
Meanwhile, a new victim was thrown onto the stage for not bringing presents, but he seemed to enjoy the opportunity. When many requests for different Christmas songs were shouted, he held up a hand for silence and declared that he would sing a song of his own invention. He spoke briefly to the pianist, who, after playing for many an unseasoned musician wannabe, had plastered a look of perpetual dread to his face. Nevertheless, he began to play the introduction to the Christmas Song, and the Imperial sang the following altered lyrics:
"Rebels roasting on an open fire,
Imperials cutting off their toes,
Yuletide carols being screamed by a choir,
And folks dropping like dominoes…
Everybody knows a numa and some mistletoe,
Help to make the season bright,
Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow,
Will find it hard to sleep tonight…
They know that Vader's on his way,
He's loaded lots of bombs and goodies on his sleigh,
And every mother's child is gonna cry,
When they see that Imps really know how to fly…
And so I'm offering this simple phrase,
To kids from one to nine hundred and two,
Although its been said many times many ways,
Merry Christmas to you!"
Apparently, Luke took each verse as an incentive to drink a full refill in one gulp, and seeing as there were four verses, he suddenly discovered the calming effects of alcohol.
Smiling and laughing at every joke that was and even wasn't funny, Luke stumbled around the lounge as Han finally found Seth and introduced himself properly to her. Within the hour, Luke found himself playing strip poker with a rambunctious group of Imperials before losing the match and being promptly rescued by Grand Adm. Morlev. Luke's next great adventure was to try to play a "Guess who I am?" game with the grand admiral, who had very little interest in playing despite Luke's tantalizing hints.
Luckily for Luke, Han had decided it was probably time to go after he and Seth had gotten acquainted. Quickly reentering the lounge, Han caught sight of Luke laughing and telling the grand admiral about how a really good clue was that he flew an X-wing, causing Han to bolt over to him.
"Don't mind him, sir," Han hastily said as he wrenched Luke away from the officer. "He's drunk."
"I noticed," Morlev replied.
Lt. Lo suddenly appeared out of nowhere. "Oh! Oh! I know who he is!"
"We gotta go, pal," Han immediately said as he dragged Luke out of the lounge and the lieutenant excitedly prepared to announce his realization.
Han squeezed his eyes shut as he managed to get Luke into the hallway, preparing for when the lieutenant would remember just who Luke really was. However, another Imperial called to Lo, who, apparently being quite the airhead, immediately forgot what he was about to do and took a greater interest in whoever called him.
"That was way too close," Han muttered before glaring at Luke. "What in the blazes were you thinking?!"
"I j's wan'ed t' see iffff he'd fig'r it ou'," Luke slurred happily.
Han sighed heavily.
The clocks all over the station suddenly began to ring out, and everyone paused from whatever they were doing to raise their glasses. Han paused as well.
"Merry Christmas, everyone," they chorused cheerfully.
Han sighed again and then pat Luke on the head, which for some apparent reason seemed to act like a hammer on Luke's head since the latter collapsed to the ground. "Merry Christmas, moron,"
Smiling, Han dragged Luke to the hangar as the echoing sound of the Imperials singing Silent Night was heard in the hallway.
There was something important to be said about one's first hangover. Some said it was a passage from childhood to adulthood. Others said it was one's first taste of consequences to actions. Others said it was the first warning against drunkenness.
Personally, Luke only gleaned one thing from his first hangover: it sucked.
Moaning, Luke vomited once more into the trash bin.
Han rubbed his back helpfully. "Easy, kid. You'll feel better soon."
"Don't talk to me," Luke snapped. "You said everything would be fine."
"Everything was fine," Han replied. "I can't help that you got carried away with the liquor."
"I can't help that you got carried away with the ladies,"
"Well it's all behind us," Han said. "We're safe in hyperspace and we got the information we needed."
Luke paused before asking, "Was I really going to tell that grand admiral who I was?"
"You were trying very hard. But don't worry about it; it all turned out for the best, and I personally had a good time."
Luke rolled his eyes. "Of course you had a good time,"
"Not just because of Seth," Han explained. "I actually found that place to be surprisingly refreshing. It had a good Christmas atmosphere."
"Oh, yes, good will to all except for those who don't do what the Empire wants," Luke noted sarcastically before moaning again as another wave of nausea came over him.
"Hey, I'm not saying it was a perfect party," Han leaned against the wall. "I'm just saying it was nice."
Luke sighed as the nausea vanished, leaving him feeling better. "Yeah, I… I suppose it was pretty nice."
The two smiled at each other in contentment and all seemed right once more. Their mission had been a success and they'd had some fun while they were at it.
Suddenly, Han bolted upright. "Oh stang,"
Any semblance of peace and happiness on Luke's face quickly shattered. He looked at Han with dread. "What is it?"
"I left my comlink,"
Luke blanched. "You what?!"
"I left it somewhere when I… well…"
Luke stared at Han. "You've got to be kidding me."
Han gave a sheepish shrug. "Well the only frequency on there is Leia's… she'll just be getting a few calls from some drunk Imperials. It's nothing we can't fix when we get back to Hoth and tell her!"
Luke continued to stare at Han, who began to shrink under the scrutiny.
"It was an honest mistake!" he said defensively.
Finally, Luke just closed his eyes and moaned. Then he looked at Han and smiled fiendishly. "I certainly hope it wasn't accidentally keyed on while you were getting acquainted with Seth."
Han paled. "No—no it couldn't have—I would've known that—"
Luke's smile grew. "You never know, Han. Leia may already know that your comlink has been compromised."
As Han spent the rest of the ride spluttering and panicking, Luke sat back in the copilot's chair, the hangover finally gone.
It had turned out to be a pretty good time after all.
Fin
This probably isn't as funny as the semi-prequel to this, but it wasn't really intended to be a competition between the two. Well, I had fun writing it, anyway. Please review! :)
Merry Christmas!