It was only about five minutes and a couple of steep flights of stairs before the strong grips on Han's arms were abruptly released and he found himself flailing downwards and straight into what felt like a stack of pots and pans, which clattered noisily to the ground with Han closely following.

Solo quickly pulled himself back to his feet out of the tangle of metal pots, nearly tripping back over a couple of them that got under his feet. He ignored a chortle from presumably one of the sentients who had just dragged him down here. Once again he felt unnerved by not knowing who was around him or where he was, but he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to remind them that as well as being their prisoner he was blind.

"Ah, and who is this?" a deceivingly pleasant sounding voice said, to which second voice replied, "Han Solo, Jabba's newest slave."

Han's heart started to beat a little faster. He couldn't be a slave, he wouldn't be. He had instinctively looked in the direction of the voice, despite that all he could see was darkness, though he noticed with some joy that the blackness seemed to be turning into a fuzzy grey. There was no one with whom to share this revelation, so he said, trying to sound sure of himself, "Yeah, but not for long."

"Solo!" the first voice said, "You sound pretty cocky for a guy who spent the last few months making the master's wall look pretty."

Han grimaced, his head burning hot with anger, which he tried to hide with a sarcastic lopsided grin. "Glad you enjoyed the view!"

He could almost hear the frown in the other man's voice, "I can see you're going to take some breaking, Solo. You've got spirit - I don't like that."

"Yeah well get used to it, 'cause the only master I answer to is myself."

A hard fist connected with Han's head from the darkness, sending him staggering backwards in surprise, not quite able to balance with his cuffed wrists. The sting of the punch throbbed in his cheek and he braced himself for another attack.

"Leave it, I'll handle him. You may go now," the first voice spoke again over the sound of the others footsteps as they walked away at his order. "I'm Gertwep and until you "break" as we so fittingly call it, I am your master. You WILL answer to me, now clear up these pots that you knocked over." The alien voice was strong and the words suggested punishment if the task was not completed.

Solo knew he couldn't do it, he didn't even try. He didn't want to be attacked – for all he knew this Gertwep was as big as Chewie – but his pride kept him frozen where he stood.

"I won't ask you twice, Solo. NOW!"

Still he stood, bravely facing the direction in which he heard hollow footsteps coming from, as Gertwep strode purposefully towards him. Han was ready to use all his power to protect himself, though he knew that without his sight and with his hands cuffed, he would never escape today.

A fist wrenched a handful of hair down hard, doubling Han over, but he pulled out of Gertwep's grasp quickly, striking out at the other sentient with both his arms as they were cuffed but not connecting, just swinging wildly into the air. "Bad move, Solo."

Han squinted, trying to fight against the mist of grey before his eyes, but to no avail. A strong, hard knee connected with his hip and he grunted, this time his swing met its target, sending the slave-master reeling. But he was merely fazed.

Several sharp slaps stung against Han's cheeks, confusing him rather than causing him pain, and he staggered backwards, finding himself backed up against a wall with nowhere to turn. Gertwep turned him around to face the wall before he could think, and with as much force as was necessary, kicked Han squarely in the back of his knees, forcing him down into a kneel.

Han inwardly cursed, thinking the carbonite must have really slowed his reflexes. From the height Gertwep's punches came from he didn't seem like a particularly big guy, Han had certainly fared better with sentients much bigger - although admittedly with less disadvantage. Gertwep kicked Han again, this time knocking him to the floor, the cuffs digging painfully into his chest, making breathing a little more difficult than he'd have liked. The slavemaster was on his back in seconds, digging his knee in to keep his prisoner pinned.

"Well, Solo. Looks like your little outburst is over. Are you ready to tidy up the mess you left yet?"

Han's answer was a defiant silence, the only sound was Gertwep's breathing, slightly heavy from their struggle. Then he snarled disapprovingly and pulled Han back up to a kneel by his hair. Han's eyes watered a little as his hairs pulled painfully at his scalp, but he kept his mouth shut. He wasn't going to make this easy for them.

Gertwep barked an order and someone or something immediately pulled at Solo's arms, holding him tightly against its body. "Hey, I'm already cuffed, y'know," Han reminded them. He hadn't known there was anyone else in the room.

"Brace yourself, Solo," Gertwep's alien voice told him, though he didn't give him enough time to before he kicked him squarely in the jaw. Han stifled a cry of pain, but his head lolled, holding it upright was suddenly too painful.

Another hit, this time a punch, connected with a sudden, sharp pain to his nose. "You're a real tough guy, aren't you?" Han taunted. He could feel a warm gush of blood running from his nose, he could taste its tangy flavour on his lips, numbed from the kick.

His cuffs were swiftly undone, leaving his hands free. "There's a pot in front of you, pick it up!" Gertwep ordered. Han shook his head, sending a throbbing ache through his painful jaw, but even as he did he went over the dilemma in his head. He couldn't let himself do it, could he? The pain from his nose was throbbing all around his skull, he felt close to passing out. One more hit and he would be unconscious.

Solo pursed his lips as he went over his options - he couldn't escape from here if they beat him to within an inch of his life, and he definitely wanted to escape, that was all there was to it. He could live to escape with Chewie and find Leia, or he could stay here and be beaten till he died.

With difficulty he swallowed his pride and reached out with his left hand, at once feeling the smooth, cold metal pot beneath his fingers. He could use the pot as a weapon if he knew where Gertwep was standing, but he didn't. If he could win a fight against both the heavy standing behind him and the slave-master, plus anyone who came to their aid he could try to escape. But he'd just proved that he couldn't. If he could see, he could find his way out without being noticed, but he couldn't. Sighing, angry but determined, Han tightened his grip and picked up the pot, feeling with a sinking heart that it truly symbolised the end of his independence. But only for the moment, he promised himself.

"Good, now pick up the others and put them in a pile, please. Then we can start over."

Han couldn't bring himself to crawl along the floor searching for the pans with his hands, so he stood up, despite the soaring pain that rose in his face from the pressure, and he kicked with his feet, finding them then picking them up until he could find no more. After minutes that in his shame felt like hours, he stopped and stood still. "There," he said, "but don't get used to it."

"Unfortunately for you, Solo, I will."


Solo awoke on an uncomfortable pile of sand, his joints were stiff, feeling the strain of his scuffle yesterday, and he stretched them, noticing with some small satisfaction that at least some of his strength was returning. A bell rang loudly and constantly and he could hear the sound of others awaking and pulling themselves to their feet. Slaves. He frowned, then opened his eyes to see a large, grey-skinned humanoid standing over him.

He could see!

Startled, Han started to a sitting position, ignoring the aches and pains that tweaked and bothered several corners of his body. He didn't care about the rest of his body - he could actually see! The image was a little fuzzy, and his eyes felt a little dry, but the important thing was that he could see again, presumably meaning he would soon be at his full strength again and have much more of an advantage. If he was strong, he could escape, he could try to help Chewie and Leia. He quickly returned to the present.

Even as he realised that the sentient leaning over him must want something from him, he was grabbed by the lapels of his shirt and pulled up to his feet with startling swiftness. Han pushed the hands away reflexively and stood back, "All right, I'm up!"

"Don't get cocky, slave, or I'll add to them bruises." Luckily for Han she had moved along the line before he could retaliate with another comment, as she had been enormous. Solo looked around him, feeling a little buzz of excitement at being able to actually look at his surroundings. There were rows of sand piles, just big enough for someone Han's size to sleep on, but all the slaves had already gone. A rush of excitement that read the situation as a possibility of escape was quickly dispelled as the huge grey being returned: "Solo, right?"

Han reluctantly nodded.

"Master Jabba the Hutt wishes to see you, come this way."

Han followed her with a renewed confident bounce to his step, "Great. I've got a bone to pick with him."