This story hereis being written as I write the third installment of my 'Forgotten Time' trilogy, which I am now able to begin completing thanks to the brilliant Indeh. Thanks, sweetie!
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Supposed to be there for a mission brief, but now aware she was not, but only lured here by thinking she was, Leia ran quickly through the hangar, trying to avoid the attention of any of Rogue Squadron, for it seemed it was they who were taking today seriously. Not that nobody else found it funny. Quite the contrary, in fact. Everyone seemed to be taking today as a chance to relax and have some fun. The only condition was that no one feign any medical problems.
After all, despite it being the 1st today, there were some rules. Not crying 'wild canoid' was one of them. As long as no-one was hurt or distracted anyone doing important work, Fourth Month Fool's day was being permitted by Rieekan (much to Madine's chagrin).
But there was one flaw to this ingenious plan to boost morale. At the moment, Rogue Squadron was bored.
Bored, that is, up until the point they saw Leia trying to get to the other side of the hangar. Then, with a collective yell, they all produced snowballs. Blast Hoth for providing them with ammunition!
Leia ran, but, alas, her legs were far shorter than theirs and she soon found them gaining.
She couldn't even see where she was going; the crates around her were too high, and it was not long before she was trapped, her back to a metal hull. There was no way she could go around it; the ship was simply too big and, even as she turned to go back the way she'd come, she saw Wedge and Jansen already following.
Within a couple of seconds, the rest of Rogue Squadron were lined up.
"Ready," said Wedge.
"Aim," Jansen joined.
But, as the rest of the Rogues yelled "fire", Leia was hurtling backwards, suddenly surrounded by strength and warmth and a metal wall hissed up in front of her. A series of loud thumping noises ensued as Rogue Squadron's snowballs hit the outside of this ship's hull and then muffled cries of indignation followed soon after.
She listened for a moment as a disgruntled Rogue Squadron tried get into this haven but then gave up, laughing.
"I'm sure she'll have a better time with you than she will with us," said Wedge's voice.
"What?" she said to herself, frowning.
"I guess they think you'll like it better in here," said a voice behind her, smooth, low and utterly delicious, were it not for the fact that this voice belonged to the someone she definitely didn't want to be around today.
"Han!" she said, turning to face her savior.
"Sounds like I grabbed you just in time, huh, Princess?"
She tried to smile, but instead she found herself looking him up and down and then around. He was wearing black pants with yellow stripes, tall black boots and his white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. Funny how she noticed all that.
He laughed, a silken, soft, rich rumble, as his eyes sparkled.
"Relax, Princess," he said gently. "I'm not up for this today."
She raised an eyebrow but he leant down toward her bringing his face level with hers as he grasped her shoulders, and shook his head.
"No, really, I promise."
For a moment, all time stood still. Her heart stopped beating, her lungs refused to draw breath. And yet, somehow her pulse was thundering in her ears and she could smell him. She had never taken the time to do that before. There was grease and oil, there was something that could've been aftershave, there was the smell of whatever spicy food he had cooked and eaten for breakfast and there was the musk of his sweat and his skin. And it smelled so wonderfully warm, so amazingly secure. She just wanted to stand there and breathe him in. His eyes were staring into hers so intently that she almost had to look away. But then, she couldn't bring herself to do it. His skin was hot on her shoulders, his hands, so big on her body. She could feel the heat radiating off his chest. And when she saw the smooth, tanned line of his clavicle beneath the open collar of his shirt, she realized suddenly – strangely – that she wanted to know what his skin would taste like.
"Princess? You feelin' alright?"
Leia suddenly realized she was staring. And that Han seemed truly concerned.
"Uh," she said, hiding her awe with an expression of disbelief. "You, not out to get me on Fourth month Fool's day?"
Han shrugged and moved away and Leia was suddenly disappointed.
"Call me old fashioned but I prefer to play jokes when people aren't expecting it. More fun that way."
"What?" Leia asked as she watched him walk away.
"I said today is the day I don't play tricks. Kaff?"
He was a few more paces away when he realized she wasn't following him.
"Come on."
He put one hand on his hip.
"Leia, I'm not gonna get you. Come on."
Warily, she followed him. She sat at the galley table. She even drank the kaff he offered her (after she made sure he'd taken a good mouthful himself to prove his innocence). Eventually, he said,
"Well, Your Worship. It's probably safe outside."
"Mmm," she agreed, and stood to leave.
"Why don't I walk you to the ramp, just in case?"
It was as Han suspected. Rogue Squadron had given up and were now snowballing each other. But as Han moved to say goodbye to Leia and retreat back into the Millennium Falcon, the comm. system whined overhead and Madine's voice, so smug it made Han shiver, began to speak. At first, they paid no attention, but then the words caught their attention.
"…And in twenty minutes there will be a surprise in the mess hall. Happy Fourth Month fool's day."
Leia glanced at Han and saw the same expression. The one that said, 'Uh-oh. Madine's way too happy.'
"I don't know about you," Han muttered as he tugged on his blue jacket – the sexy one with the collar and the pockets and the snug fitting sleeves and – Leia shook herself out of it, "but I've got a bad feeling about this."
Leia nodded.
"I know what you mean," she answered.
"Well, Princess," he said, extending his arm. "Care to join me?"
Once more, Leia hesitated, wary of any ruse he might have in store for her but Han rolled his eyes and grinned.
"Leia, for Kest's sake!"
With a glance that wasn't quite disapproving, she took his arm and they set off together toward the mess.
As it was on the other side of the base, they arrived at the mess hall just as Madine was starting his little show.
Han moved over and stood next to Rieekan, Leia still on his arm.
"What's goin' on?" he whispered in Rieekan's ear as Madine wittered.
Rieekan shook his head.
"I don't know. We're as much in the dark as you and the rest of the base."
"I thought he hated Fourth Month Fool's day," Leia put in.
"Us, too!" said Rieekan and Han together.
"And now," Madine smirked, "I think you'll agree that this little trick is the most surprising of today."
"Joke's on you, Madine," said a voice from somewhere near the front. "It's past twelve."
There was a ripple of laughter.
"Oh, I think not, Ferris," Madine replied, and the tone of his voice, the extent of the coldness, the heartlessness, silenced everyone.
Madine looked around, still smirking.
"I'm not sure how many of you trust your friends without thinking," he said. "I don't know how many of you keep many friends close."
His gaze seemed to pierce everyone.
"But I know at least two of you, other than myself, familiar with Cadet 13729805."
Everyone turned to each other and muttered their puzzlement.
Almost everyone.
When Leia turned to question Han, she noticed that both he and Rieekan had gone sheet white.
"No!" Han whispered, and the sound, without her being able to say why, made the hair on the back of Leia's neck stand on end.
"Han…" Rieekan said, reaching out, trying in vain to stop him.
"No, Madine," Han said, his voice loud, harsh.
But it was too late.
'You're aware this Court Marshall has been recorded?'
The question was being asked through the speakers before Han finished, and then a voice equal to Han's tone but higher, less rough, rumbled through the mess hall.
'Yes.'
The reply was insolent, angry. But it was also weak.
'And you're aware of the charges being brought against you?'
There was a short laugh over the speakers following the question and it sounded as though the young man who made the sound had wasted a lot of energy he didn't have to do it.
'This courtroom must also hear a list of the charges.'
'First,' said a new voice, 'deliberate and willful insubordination: Three counts. Second; Striking an officer: Two counts.'
There was a cry of indignation from the man being accused – the young man whose voice reminded Leia of Han's.
'Third,' said the man, undeterred, 'interfering with an official interrogation: One count. Fourth; threatening a superior officer: Two counts. Fifth; possession of glitterstim phials: Five counts. Sixth; endangering the lives of two thousand comrades.'
The first voice spoke again.
'You have heard the charges brought against you. Do you understand them?'
'Yes,' came the reply, but then there was a sudden clatter and an 'ouf!'
'Show some respect you miserable Kach'te!' said another voice, harsh and uncaring.
There was a short pause, a groan of pain and then an answer.
'Yes Sir.'
The words were spoken like a curse.
'And you are aware that this court has come to a decision?'
'Yes.'
More clattering and another exclamation.
'Sir.'
There was rustling of papers and murmuring in the background. Leia strained to hear it for the sound became momentarily garbled.
'Lieutenant-Commander…number…298…5… is my duty…inform you that this court has come to a decision: We find you guilty of all charges and, therefore, are to be taken from this place and dishonorably discharged.'
'Not even allowed a chance to defend himself,' Leia thought to herself.
There was the sound of a gavel being banged on wood and then the murmuring grew to full blown chatter, but Madine changed the track.
"Audio only presents a use for the imagination. But perhaps you would like to see this unfortunate man?"
Now there was murmuring here in the mess hall, too.
"I'll take that as a yes," Madine smiled, and signaled to someone at the back of the room.
The projector that resided in the wall suddenly whirred to life and, though the image was small and grainy, she could just make out what was going on. The film seemed to have been shot from a great distance.
This was obviously an event at the Imperial Navy Headquarters on…Corellia by the looks of things. Ah, then Han must know the man who was being court marshaled.
The troops were all lined up in the square and, at the front, there were three men. The first was reading aloud from a list. The second was standing completely still, and the third was stripping all the rank and insignia from the second's tunic before stripping him of that, too, and his belt, leaving him in his trousers and a black, short sleeved undershirt. The second man then took – and snapped – the man's ceremonial saber.
Leia winced as the second man received a stinging slap to his left cheek that snapped his head around, and was then spat at – no, spat on – by the third. But he never moved, never showed any emotion; she could tell from his stance even if she could not make out the faces.
But once more, Madine did not allow their thirst for information to be quenched.
Instead, he changed the image to two people fencing.
"You see?" he said as one of the men went down and the other trapped him. "Such a promising start."
As the loser nodded acquiescence and removed his mask before accepting the winner's hand, Leia noticed the only thing she could about the, as yet, faceless victor. His fantastic physique.
But again, Madine changed the footage before the winner removed his mask and revealed his face.
"A Brilliant pilot…" Madine continued, showing them footage of practice maneuvers.
Leia watched as the TIE fighter executed rolls and banks and a wealth of other tricks she had rarely ever seen performed.
"An excellent marksman…"
Footage of twelve blaster bolts all hitting their mark as a shadowy figure hurtled around the course. There was something disturbingly familiar about the way the man moved.
"And surprisingly," Madine said matter-of-factly, "a wonderful musician."
There was footage, shot from the back of a hall, of a man, the same man, playing the piano expertly, and crooning the lyrics wonderfully, too. Leia thought she recognized the voice. But, yet again, just as the shot was clear enough to reveal anything, Madine changed the image.
Now there were several young officers laughing and joking around a room full of beds, some undressing, some dressing, some already asleep, some already in full uniform. The people around Leia looked about uncomfortably: Something was wrong here.
"But unfortunately," Madine said as the camera zoomed in on the back of a particular young man, whose hair fell below his gray cap, "his attitude was too poor."
"Hey, at least turn around! " said the man using the 'corder.
"Something which hasn't changed to this day, now, has it?" Madine asked, his voice far too delighted.
And Echo Base suddenly found out why. Every man and woman in the mess hall froze as the man in shot turned around. His dark hair was longer than it should have been, probably through no fault of his own. His hair likely as not just grew faster than most people's, untended to because haircuts were scheduled events in the Navy. But his familiar honeyed-hazel eyes sparkled as his gaze fixed on something behind camera, the man filming, perhaps? The corner of his mouth, with full lips below a crooked nose, turned up at their right hand side, and, as he spoke, Leia heard a rumble she recognized.
"Mako," the Lieutenant-Commander Han Solo on the screen said amusedly. "Turn that thing off! "