His Blessing
A Star Wars Fanfiction
Disclaimer: No I don't own Star Wars, and no, I'm not making any money from this. But you probably figured that out already didn't you?
A special thank you to jublke for ner beta work. Any remaining mistakes belong to me.
OFFICER'S MESS, ECHO BASE, HOTH SYSTEM
"Why are we drinking drinks with ice cubes in 'em when we're already sitting on a kriffing ice cube?" Han Solo wondered aloud, not expecting an answer. Not really wanting an answer, when it came right down to it.
"It does provide a certain continuity," Wedge answered. "You know, a kind of synchronicity."
Han merely raised an eyebrow in response. He held up his glass of Corellian whiskey, frowned at the ice cubes floating in it, and then tossed back its contents. He shivered, scowling at Antilles. "Those are mighty big words for an x-wing jockey," he observed.
"Wedge's been studying. It keeps him warm at night," Janson smiled. "Right now it's the only thing that's keeping him warm at night." Wedge's recent break up with 'that hot girl from logistics' had been providing the other members of Rogue squadron with enough material to entertain the entire base for several days now.
Wedge, however, was getting tired of being the butt of this particular joke. He ignored Janson's grin and finished his own drink. "This stuff is terrible," he said, indicating his glass.
"Just like everything else on this miserable excuse for a planet," Han agreed. "You know, Chewie and I have a stash of Midoreean Dew on the Falcon. You guys ought to come by some time and try it. It set the kid right on his ear!" A corner of Han's mouth lifted at the memory of Luke's first encounter with the potent brandy.
"Where is the big fur ball?" Janson inquired.
"Back at the Falcon. He's got the lifters pulled apart; he said something about damage to them after we lifted off from Ord Mantelll." Han's mouth tightened to a thin line. He looked across the room, just for a second, and his free hand tightened into a fist. He turned back to Janson and shrugged. "But Chewie's always got some part or other of her disassembled. It makes him happy."
"We could go back there now," Janson suggested hopefully, obviously thinking of the Midoreean Dew. "I'm sure Chewie wouldn't mind taking a break."
"Nah," Han said. "Chewie hates to be disturbed when he's working." His eyes traveled back across the busy room.
Wedge followed Solo's gaze. On the other side of the mess, Princess Leia was deep in conversation with General Rieekan. Wedge's eyes narrowed shrewdly.
"Wes, go see if Hobbie needs any help with those requisitions he's working on," Wedge suggested.
"But Tycho's working with him." Janson looked mutinous.
"Go give Hobbie a hand," Wedge ordered, giving Janson a helpful shove in the direction of the door.
"Fine." Janson looked between the two men. "But you owe me a shot of Midoreean Dew." He stalked away.
When Wedge turned back, he found another shot of Corellian whiskey in front of him. Silently toasting his benefactor, he sipped his drink, wrinkling his nose at the aftertaste, which reminded him vaguely of speeder fuel. "Almost makes you embarrassed to be Corellian," he said, looking sadly into the glass.
"Almost," Han agreed, slugging his drink back with one large swallow. He watched as Leia left the mess.
"I hear things got a little exciting during the Ord Mantelll trip," Wedge began conversationally. He waited for a response. When he got none, he continued on. "At least you guys got the mission accomplished."
"Yeah." Han's furrowed eyebrows made a deep V in his forehead.
Wedge didn't miss the frown. The two men had become friends since Yavin. Maybe it was because they were both Corellian, or maybe it was because they were both pilots. It might be because they had both survived. Whatever the reason, Antilles could tell something other than an almost blown mission was bothering Han.
"Well, no one said fighting an evil despot bent on total galactic domination would be easy." Wedge said, offering a disarming smile. Well, he hoped it was a disarming smile; his fellow Corellian's face was still tight with anger. "Hey, everyone got back in one piece," Wedge reminded Han. "That's what counts."
"It isn't the kriffing mission; it isn't the kriffing war." Han growled out. "It's the kriffing bounty hunter! I almost got her killed."
"Hey, no one knows the risks better than Leia," Wedge said.
Ignoring Wedge, Han planted a hand in the middle of his chest. "Me. That Hutt-spawn bounty hunter was after me! No one else." He stared into his empty glass. "She could have died because of me!" He seemed relieved to have finally said it.
Wedge didn't think he'd ever heard his friend curse so much at one time before. Han really was upset about what had happened on Ord Mantell, which was just what Wedge had figured. Yeah, Solo had it bad for the Princess. And that was good. The Rogue betting pool notwithstanding, Wedge figured he would do what he could to help them along. He liked Han, and he liked Leia; they were both his friends and he really thought they deserved to be happy. It seemed to him that they would be happy together.
"You know, Leia knows the risks," Wedge said again. "All of them," he continued over Solo's objections. "She's in kind of an odd position here, being the public face of the Rebel Alliance and all. Just give her a little time," he recommended.
"The ice princess?"
"She just needs a little time."
"Antilles; Solo." Both men looked up. Neither of them had heard General Rieekan approach.
"General, sir." Wedge hopped off his stool and came to attention. Han stood also, nowhere near at attention, but with a certain amount of respect.
Rieekan waved a careless hand. "At ease." He pointed his look at Wedge. "Antilles, I saw Klivan working on those requistions. Why don't you go and give him a hand," he suggested.
"But, sir," Wedge objected, looking between Rieekan and Solo, "I just sent Janson to help out Hobbie." Whatever was going on, he wanted to know what it was.
"Antilles, go help Klivan with those requisitions." It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order.
"Yes, sir." Wedge headed for the door, shooting Han a questioning look as he passed. Han just shrugged. He had no idea what the general wanted, but it couldn't be good. What the hells had her Worship told the man now, anyway?
"Have a seat, Captain." Rieekan planted himself on the stool Wedge had just vacated. "What are you drinking?"
Han returned to his seat and picked up his empty glass, looking at it with disdain. "The bottle says it's Corellian whiskey. I think it might be a mixture of glacier runoff and bantha piss."
Rieekan laughed, a pleasant, booming sound. "You might be right." He signaled the server droid for two more drinks. When they were served, both men drank in silence, making identical faces of disgust at the liquor. Finally, Han squared his shoulders and looked straight at the general. He didn't know what he was in trouble for, but whatever it was, he wanted to get the reprimand over with.
"Look, general, I don't know what her Worsh-, ah, the Princess said to you…"
Rieekan's lips quirked, either in anger, or perhaps amusement, at the almost spoken appellation. "I've known Leia since she was a little girl," he began.
That stopped Han cold; whatever he'd expected Rieekan to say, that wasn't it. He nodded. He knew that the general had known Leia for a long time. Everyone here on Hoth knew that.
"Bail Organa and I were good friends." The general's eyes were focused on something from long ago. "I was surprised when he joined the fight against the Empire. I was more surprised when he allowed Alderaan to take sides." He took a sip of his whiskey, and winced. "But Bail surprised me the most when he told me about Leia's involvement. I think I even disapproved; she was just a girl, after all." Rieekan smiled thoughtfully.
"I was planet side on Alderaan a couple of times," Han said "They always made it a big deal about being peaceful, you know, pacifists. Their involvement surprised me, too." Han remembered for a minute. "It was a beautiful world." He held up his glass in a silent salute. Rieekan held his up in response, his smile fading.
"Bail said that he had to do what was right; that his world had to do what was right. That's why they couldn't sit still and watch the Empire take over. And I know that he taught Leia to do what was right. He also told me he wasn't worried about her; that Leia could take care of herself." Now both men smiled. "She does take care of herself," Rieekan continued. "It's remarkable, what she can do. What she does," the general amended.
Solo nodded.
"One of the things she does is choose her friends wisely. Even Antilles." The general shook his head. "Though, every once in a while I wonder about that man."
"And Luke, Luke is great," Han added quickly. He gulped down the rest of his drink.
"Skywalker is a fine young man," Rieekan agreed. He picked up his glass, looked at it, and set it down again, untouched. "Look, Solo, you have a past."
"Yeah, general, I do. I understand what you're trying to say."
"No, I don't think you do. I have a past, too, and so do a lot of other people here. Some people were Imperial officers; some people were smugglers."
Han lifted an ironic eyebrow. "Hey, I've been both!" he proclaimed with bitter pride.
Rieekan nodded in acknowledgment, then continued. "Others were thieves, conmen, slicers. I think that bothers some people, but it doesn't bother me. It doesn't matter what you did, it just matters what you do now." His expression lightened. "Bail taught me that. I'm pretty sure he taught Leia that, too."
Han set his empty glass down on the bar with a snap. "Look, General, I appreciate the pep talk, I really do." The look on Solo's face said otherwise. "But we both know what happened on Ord Mantelll. And why."
"Yes, we do. You and Skywalker and the Princess completed a difficult mission under less than ideal circumstances." Rieekan looked Han straight in the eyes. "Solo, you didn't get those for just for showing up on time." He indicated the Corellian bloodstripes that adorned Han's pants. "You're a brave man—a good man. I know you won't let anything happen to her."
Han said nothing, apparently too surprised to speak.
The general stood and clapped his hand on Solo's shoulder, in a decidedly father-like fashion. "I like you, Solo. I bet Bail would have liked you, too. As for the rest—you're a smart man, Solo, figure it out." He turned toward the door. "Oh," he added, "Skywalker's going out to place some sensors. He could probably use some help." He walked away without looking back.
"General!" Rieekan paused to look at Han. "Uh, thanks for the drink."
The general smiled. "Any time."
Han watched the door slide shut behind the general, dumbstruck. A wave of emotions washed over him, beginning and ending with bewilderment. What had just happened? Had Rieekan just told him that he thought that Han Solo had a chance with the Princess? That he should go for it? And, gods, did he really just say that Bail Organa would have liked him? He shook his head, trying to clear out the confusion. And if he had heard correctly, what in the nine hells was he supposed to do about it? The past did matter, he thought angrily, when it came after you with a blaster and threatened the people you cared about. He sat there, twisting the empty glass in his hand.
Well, he figured, maybe he'd go help Luke set those sensors; it would give him some time to think.