The Afterworlder Affair

by Ivylore

Some missions are harder than others. Pre-ESB.

2. Chapter 2

The Millennium Falcon made the jump to hyperspace by the skin of her molecularly bonded hull. Five Imperial scoutships materialized from out of nowhere as soon as they broke Lunera's atmosphere. Han had to plot a short hyperspace jump while dodging unfriendly fire, with the princess demanding he speed it up.

He was sweating by the time they reached lightspeed.

"This is an… interesting ship." The Alderaanian sounded as though he was a potential buyer out on the Falcon for a test flight.

Han had almost forgotten that he had an audience. The Falcon's latest passengers were packed into the cockpit. "She's one of the fastest ships in the galaxy."

"You've never seen her at her finest," Blix piped up. "I mean it. Oh Han, you haven't seen half of the transport freighters I've flown on over the past two years. They either have no defences or no shields; sometimes the mainframe computer systems are hacked together and can't get along."

"These ones still don't get along," Han said.

Roan intruded on their light reminiscing with a scratchy sound in the base of his throat that sounded as though it had once been a laugh. "Ahem. I'm sure the Alliance greatly appreciates having such a worthy, albeit provincial vessel with which to escort Her Royal Highness from mission to mission."

Leia coughed softly and unfastened her crash webbing. "Yes, Roan. Now, if you'll all excuse me..."

Lady, I'm going to strangle you if you leave me alone with him, Han thought, but she missed his death stare; her eyes skimmed over a'Penaru as she left, and a'Penaru, in turn, watched the sway of her hips rather appreciatively. As did Blix.

"Who is she?"Blix asked. "Where'd you find her?"

"I didn't find her," Han returned. "I'm just working with her temporarily." He swept a hand through his unkempt hair. Blix was still staring down the passageway. Any minute now his drool would hit the deckplates. "Don't even think about it," he said. "Believe me, she'd find you provincial."

"Working? Temporarily?" Roan muttered. "Is that what you call running with the Alliance?"

Han ignored the question. "How long have you been the front-man for the Death Legion?"

"I'm not at liberty to disclose any dates." Roan spoke with same brand of politeness perfected by skip tracers, tax collectors and beings who prospered by making other people's lives miserable. "Too many people's lives depend on our operation."

Self-aggrandizing talk was another trait he didn't expect coming from a man who was about to die. The part of him that instinctively disliked a'Penaru ceased disliking and began loathing in earnest. And the mass of freshly bruised knuckles on Roan's right hand were more diverting to his eye than the intangible aura of near-death.

Han switched both the tactical display and the vid-screen exhibiting the Falcon's sensitivesystems data off. "Let's get one thing straight," he said flatly. "The Imperials showed up on Lunera because somebody tipped them off and it wasn't us. Now, I'm not in the habit of taking complete strangers onboard and if I'd had it my way I would've left you on Lunera. So go make yourself at home in the crew cabin. You come near the cockpit again or touch anything on my ship and you'll find yourself strait-jacketed in a supply closet for the duration of this flight."

"Her Highness-"

"This isn't her ship and we don't agree on much."

Roan bowed his head. "Very well, Captain Solo."

It wasn't Han's best moment and it was untimely. Leia was suddenly standing in the portal-way with an expression best described as forcibly neutral.

"I didn't know you'd joined up with the Alliance," Blix exclaimed loudly. "You don't say-"

"Chewie, keep an eye out." Han brushed past her and headed for his private cabin.

She pounded after him. "Sometimes I just can't believe you."

"Try harder."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Listen to me. All you're required to do is fly your ship. Keep your opinions to yourself from this point forward. Additionally, if would serve you well to remember that you're here as an Alliance representative and under the circumstances-"

"Spare us both the rhetoric and the song and dance."

"Youbrought a civilian on board without consulting me." Leia lowered her voice. "He could compromise the mission."

"He's a freighter-bum, not an undercover agent, and he's getting off at the first major starport we pass. And in case you haven't noticed, Your Worship, the mission has already compromised itself plenty. It was supposed to be wrapped up before we left Lunera. Now we're headed for Duros with a hot ship." They'd arrived at his quarters. Lunera's smelly excuse for rain had soaked him. He pulled his damp shirt over his head, flung it on the floor and kicked off his boots. "Don't forget, Sweetheart. This isn't your ship. I can cram whoever I want in the smuggling compartments without consulting you."

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" He dragged apart a set of folding paneled doors and began rummaging through the mayhem that currently resembled his closet. "You're the one who followed me in here, remember?"

"Oh." Looking vaguely embarrassed, Leia turned to leave, managing to act as though she was merely seeking the exit and not deliberately looking away. She stopped shy of the hatch, inspecting the cabin and making a point of momentarily ignoring him.

Like most Corellian ships, the captain's quarters contained only one extra wide sleeping berth with an overhead shelf, currently home to an array of spare gear, goggles, flight helmets, and thermalsuits, all safely secured behind a curtain of tightly-woven webbing. The décor was a blend of off-white lexoplast, used for the flooring and built in furniture, and the silver chrome used to accent virtually everything else. Various bins held datareaders and flimsiplasts with flight information. Glowpanels were stationed overhead but Han never used them, preferring the soft granular light of the berth's halo-lamps instead.

Han finally located a long-sleeved white shirt. "So was his hand all banged up when you got there?"

"What do you mean?"

"His right hand." Han yanked the shirt over his head, then made a fist and rapped it against the dividing-wall. "He looks like he pounded something with bones made of duracrete."

"I can't remember… I don't think so."Leia turned around completely, fretful. "Why do you dislike him so much? Has he said anything? Done anything?"

Han shrugged ambiguously.

"Then what?"

"Why did he need to beat it outside when I showed up?"

"He went to speak with his assistant."

"I think the assistant is what happened to his hand."

"Captain Solo-"

"Han."

Unfazed, she said, all business-like, "Han, if you suspect him of anything you need to disclose it to me."

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm not patronizing you. I'm being sincere."

Han studied her for a second. Maybe she was being sincere, that or she was putting on an act worthy of the holo-film Nebula Awards. "All right. It's just that it seems like too much of a coincidence to me that the last few 'martyrs' from a'Penaru's group have only gone after small targets, small change – nothing the Empire couldn't afford to lose." Seeing Leia's face evince surprise, Han added, "Yes, I actually pay attention to the goings on at the Fleet."

"I'm listening."

"Now, suddenly, there's a major coup, an opportunity the likes of which no one's seen since you got your hands on the Death Star schematics and suddenly he has to take it. It has to be him."

"Whatever it is you're trying to say…" Leia shook her head. "It doesn't make any sense. In fifteen timeparts we'll be at Duros. That's the end of it." Suddenly sapped of energy, she slumped into the small conform lounge and studied her wrist chrono. "He'll be dead in under a standard day."

That last part didn't make any sense. Even Han agreed. He studied her worriedly. This wasn't the type of assignment he would ever have scrawled Leia Organa's name beside. It took a lot of guts to send a man to his death. It took exponentially more to send someone you knew, had known. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Why'd they give you this?"

"I didn't have the luxury of refusing Rieekan."

Han knew the feeling and immediately sympathized. Days before, he had turned down a second offer of a command position from Rieekan. In the ensuing minutes, the General had offered him this particular assignment, claiming that the Alliance didn't have another craft that wouldn't stand out on the backwater outpost on Lunera. Han hadn't been able to turn him down twice in the space of the conversation, even if it entailed two days alone with Leia Organa. "You ever think about just saying 'no'?"

"And he insisted."

"He as in Roan?"

"He as in Roan," she repeated. "In regard to my oversight earlier today, I didn't know how you'd feel about the mission objective. From what I know of Corellian culture this is very much against your… your… well, your ideologies of life and death. That's why I withheld the information from you."

"Yeah. Sure." Han's mouth hardened imperceptibly at the corners. If former senator Leia Organa's only reason for not briefing him beforehand was out of a vague respect for his never-before expressed personal beliefs then he was secretly a Jedi Knight. "So he's hell-bent on going through with this?"

"Apparently so."

"And you're okay with it?"

The pain of uncertainty was etched into her forehead. "No."

"No?"

"No." She elegantly unfolded her elbows and crossed her wrists over her left knee. "May I speak frankly?"

Han thought back to her reaction the firsttime he'd refused Rieekan's offer to make him a commander. It had involved an endless barrage of shouting and a hydrospanner being converted into a projectile object in the middle of a main hangar. "Sure."

"Before you arrived I made an effort to dissuade him. In vain. That was why I needed to go to the checkpoint alone." She lightly cleared her throat. "High Command had no idea that I would attempt to undermine the entire mission and I… well, the only reason I accepted was with the intention to do so."

The pieces of the puzzle swiftly fitted together. So that was the reason she'd looked so crestfallen when he'd barged in on their strategy session. Han snatched a pillow and copped a seat on the end of his bunk. "You're serious?"

"I wouldn't joke about this."

"In that case, I like you a hell of a lot better when you're not acting like the Agentess of Death on the Alliance's behalf."

"A few might regard my actions today as sabotage."

Han idly stroked underside of his chin and stared without blinking at the hollow at the base of her throat. It was a smooth concave indent where the skin was opaque over her collarbone. Her pulse flickered there. "Tell them to go screw themselves."

The suggestion was rewarded with an undeniably relieved sigh, as though what he thought genuinely mattered to her. (And you figured hell would freeze over first, Han thought wryly.) She went on speaking with added, growing determination; "Look, it's not as if intellectually and strategically, I don't fully comprehend the categorical ramifications of an unexpected strike against the Furor - that is to say what it would, or will, mean for the Alliance. It will be like cutting fingers off the Empire's left hand when no one's looking."

"But?"

"On a more personal level, this isn't how I want to win."

"After what they did to Alderaan, I'd want to go after them with every ounce of firepower." The shudder was almost beneath her skin. Had Han not been sitting near enough to touch her, he wouldn't have seen the motion pass through her at all. It was his fault; he usually had more tact. He pretended he hadn't noticed. "Hell, they've done far less to me and I still have no problems going after them."

"Call it a professional level then. I don't agree with the message it sends. We're revealing to our would-be allies that we're desperate, that we can't stage a battle and retain a shred of hope. They need to believe we can win."

"That's your diplomatic side talking," he pointed out. "The Alliance will lose more lives if she simply stages an all-out assault."

"See, you're right," Leia groaned. "And two-hundred proton torpedoes won't equal the explosive power of one 3HX3 mine detonating beside a reactor core."

"So Roan insists he wants to do this and, whether you like it or not, it's the best course of action for all involved."

"Something like that."

Han thought about that for a moment. "And it had to be you delivered the data."

Leia furrowed both slim brows. "Please. Surely you're not suggesting this was some kind of a trap again."

"You asked for my opinion. The Imperials had impeccable timing back on Lunera. If Chewie wasn't with Falcon we would have been completely cut off from her. That's one tiny floating city. They would have found us in record time. We were lucky." Han smoothed the cuffs of his shirt down. "Very lucky. We might have ten brigades waiting for us at the Durosian Primary Skyhook."

"You don't know him. He's never done anything like this."

Personally, so far Han thought Roan was a stuck up, high-tongued aristocrat in dire need of a laxative, but he decided to keep that to himself. "What was he back on Alderaan?"

"The World Family's Master of Finances."

He turned his startled snort of laughter into a cough. "Eyebrows was your Master of-"

"I know. I know." She drew the back of her hand across her forehead. "It's ridiculous in theory. This all is."

"You're right. It is." It was more than that. It was downright ludicrous. Han leaned back and slapped the switch for the onboard intercom system. Chewbacca's distinctive whuffling breathing sounded the same as always, wet and vaguely asthmatic. Blix was probably raiding the galley. A'Penaru was probably sulking in the crew cabin, contemplating his last moments and what Leia Organa looked like naked, which as far as Han could tell, was at present the only interest they had in common.

"He doesn't call me Your Highness anymore," she said, absent-mindedly.

"He does when you're not around."

"That's strange."

It wasn't really. It was a'Penaru's subtle means of hammering in the class distinctions between them.

"You really don't trust him?"

That was less of a question than it was a statement of fact. A'Penaru certainly affected a general air of fucked-up-ness, but Han wouldn't have made any bets on how far beneath his skin the personality disorder was rooted. Bail Organa and a'Penaru had been old friends; naturally, Leia's judgment was clouded by a lifetime of memories. Maybe, Han determined stoically, she was seeking any reason, no matter how flimsy, to prevent the mission from going ahead and he just happened to be her nearest accomplice. "Do you trust me?"

The look on her face was indecipherable. "Every other shift," she said.

For about the fiftieth time that day, Han wondered what exactly had or hadn't taken place between she and Roan back on Alderaan. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He said, "That's good. We're about even," and climbed to his feet.

"May I ask a favour?"

"Maybe." Han shrugged elaborately. "I haven't decided whether or not to forgive you for comparing me to a Gamorrean."

The princess moved her lips into a smile. "When you do finally decide, please don't call him Eyebrows to his face."

It had been at least two years since Leia Organa had seen anyone deep in prayer. By the manner in which he was up on his knees with his hands turned out, Leia recognized, and realized for the first time, that Roan was a devotee of Tal'mu, an ancient religion that was common in the Uplands plains region of the continent of Thon.

"I'm interrupting," she said.

"Not at all."

"I can return later."

He set an opalescent, oval prayer stone on the floor beside his knee. "Do you pray?"

"No." Bail Organa had been, if anything, even more fervently secular than he had been pacifistic, and more devoted to overthrowing the Emperor than anything else. Still, the pose and the sentiment the pose induced were commonplace, and, wanting to bask in the experience of familiarity, Leia lowered herself softly to her knees just inside the hatch grooves. It didn't feel like the most opportune moment to address him, or even question him, but it probably wouldn't in another five timeparts either. She said, "Please accept my sincerest apology on behalf of Captain Solo. You don't need to stay locked up in here. You're free to move about the ship, although I would recommend avoiding the cockpit or any of the tech stations."

One sleek, thick eyebrow rose with interest. "Does it bite?"

"Does what bite?"

Roan grinned amiably. "The Wookiee."

"Damn it," she muttered, thinking, they're doing it again. When Han encouraged him to whoop it up, the Wookiee enjoyed snarling and snapping his fangs at beings he didn't like. Threepio, the protocol droid that had fallen into Leia's possession after her escape from the Death Star, was more often than not their favourite non-human victim. Today was worse than usual though. The last time she'd seen him breeze by, Chewie had appeared in a state of elaborate disarray with his fur was puffed out and inflated from the wind and salt air on Lunera that that it actually touched both sides of the passageways. It was enough to frighten those that knew him.

"Damn what?"

"Oh nothing. I'll talk to him," she promised, lowering her lashes slightly. Just as Han had said, partially obscured by coarse black hairs and swollen veins, the plateau between his knuckles and the base of his fingers was badly bruised and deeply scratched. Was it frivolous to patch up a few knuckles when they would soon be formless? Nonexistent? She began; "I thought you might like the medpac."

"Thank you, yes." Roan's eyelashes flickered from side to side, as though he were paying attention to something else. "He's suspicious of me, isn't he?"

"He doesn't trust anyone."

"Yet you trust him?"

Didn't Han just ask you that?

She pretended to be absorbed with separating the gauze from the synthflesh, the regeneration bandages from the bacta ointment, the spray hypo from the anti-inflammatories. Life would be much easier if she hated Han Solo. Even an emotion less substantial than hate would do. A token sense of disinterest in the man would be enough, just so that after he left, after a month or two, someone might mention his name in passing and she would realize that she hadn't thought about him in weeks. That after a year, she would never think of him at all.

No, Han and she weren't friends… exactly. They shared a deep affection for Luke Skywalker, who like her had lost everything to the Empire. That was enough to make Leia believe occasionally that Han had lost much in his life too. And he was a damned good pilot. Trust was only a figure of speech once you analyzed it.

"He saved my life," she explained. "He was instrumental in destroying the Death Star and was awarded the Medal of Alderaan. You must have learned that if you heard the rest."

"Ah." Something seemed to click inside Roan's mind, as though he was fitting the pieces to a mind-game together and he knew who Han was now. He said, "I owe him my gratitude then, for saving you and watching over you. I must say that I am surprised that the Council would hire-"

Leia shook her head. "He's not my bodyguard."

"Yet he possesses an immoderate sense of protectiveness when it comes to you. Any male would be afraid to move within ten meters."

Another vague question regarding their relationship.

Maybe Han was jealous. Was that it?

No. Now you're the one who's delusional…

Leia wondered what Roan would say if she admitted that she had little interest in the effects of testosterone (was that a lie as of ten minutes ago?), that she had no time or energy to give the natural instincts of her passage into adulthood attention, that she ate, slept and dreamed the resistance and the war. She imagined him saying something like "you haven't changed a bit," and felt unprovoked animosity rise within her chest at the presupposition. Unanticipated defensiveness struck her. "With all due respect, Roan," she blurted out, "you didn't request my presence in order to scrutinize the company I keep, did you?"

"No. Don't be silly." He snapped up the roll of regeneration bandaging and cleanly tore off a perforated strip. Then he slapped the square over the wounds on his hand. The bandaging would seal itself to living flesh; the spare fabric would tear away in about thirty seconds. He added, almost as an afterthought, "I just wondered if you were aware of how it looked."

It doesn't look like anything, she thought determinedly. And Han was right. She hated to admit it, but Roan was acting like a highborn snob. Oddly, she had no idea if he'd changed or she had. "Why didn't you ever mention your wife and son to me?"

"We kept our relationship a secret."

"From who?"

"I would have done anything for her," he continued evasively. "Didn't matter. Your father had me shipped off to Excarga as soon as he found out about her." His mouth twisted. "The irony being that my falling out of favour with him saved my life. Bail wasn't always understanding, Leia, even to those of us who thought we were close to him. He wasn't the type of man to let his heart lead him and he had no sympathy for those who followed theirs."

"I must have known her."

"Yes. She was from a Royal House, like you."

Baffled, Leia closed her eyes and searched her memory. "I don't understand."

"Why I did what I did? The last time we saw each other?"

"Yes."

"Did you think your parents were happy?" he asked. "Before your mother died?"

"I've never thought about it." She stared at the prayer stone. Breha and Bail had been two political bodies who had merged well together, who had shared ideologies, a love of public service, a love of Alderaan, and a love for her. They had been polite and kind to one another, right up until her mother's premature death. After that, her father had never expressed an interest in remarrying. "They believed in one another."

"But they were never in love. Deep down, you know that." He picked up the oblong prayer stone again. "And if you recognize that, even in passing, you're less your father's daughter than you know."

"You haven't answered my question."

"Let time pass us both by without you thinking the worst of me." Roan forced the priceless stone into the center of her palm with his uninjured hand. "I should like you to keep this. It's seven generations old and all that I have left of Alderaan. It doesn't seem fitting that it go with me on this mission."

Although it was obvious that Roan had no intention of answering any more questions, she tried once more. "What happened to your hand?"

Although she watched his reaction carefully, he barely reacted to the question. He said, without breaking eye contact, "The decks were slippery."

Compared to Han's addlebrained suggestion that Roan had gone outside and thrown his unwitting assistant into the waters, the explanation was mercifully simple and believable.

"Thank you. Yes, I'll keep this for you. And I'll leave you to rest."

She exited the crew cabin and almost walked straight into Chewbacca, who promptly turned sideways so that she could pass him without inhaling a mouthful of Wookiee hair.

"Chewie," she called. "Stop."

The Wookiee made an interrogative growl.

"Cut it out. There's no need to frighten our guests. Under any circumstances. Got it?"

The reply, an artificial whimper, was anything but genuine.

"You do too know what I mean," she retorted, stomping down the hall. She passed Blix, who despite having his head buried in the refrigeration unit possessed an extremely sharp sense of hearing.

"Sweetheart, where's the firespice?"

"The what?" She eyed the plate piled high with their meagre fresh supplies. She debated correcting his apparent misconception that the Falcon was all-you-can-eat buffet, and then opted against it. He's Han's friend, let him deal with it…

Straight ahead of her was the cockpit and Han Solo and more questions that she didn't feel like dealing with in her present mood. Feeling desperate for some solitude, Leia headed back up the passageway and followed the loop to the medbay. She did need to talk to him but it could wait. Alliance Command would never learn that she hadn't entrusted or briefed Han on his responsibilities before they'd reached Lunera. The one very good thing about Han was that although he tended to rub her the wrong way, he also kept his mouth shut. Anything secondary to the mission itself, unless it was of vital importance, would stay between them.

And, well, often Luke Skywalker, but she would work on that later.

The tiny medbay was the only place on the small ship that was currently empty. Guarding the prayer stone in her hand, she crawled onto the sickbed and drew the privacy curtain shut.

She settled onto her side and set the prayer stone between the pillow and the bulkhead. From a distance, the center of the stone appeared to be engraved with an ornate star-shaped pattern. Up close, the star-shaped pattern was made up of miniature script, of the names of the Tal'mu spirits and areas of Alderaan they protected.

They hadn't been much help at all, not in the end.

She should feel upset, sending Roan to a certain death, but strangely, she didn't feel anything at all. The sensation wasn't new. Alderaan was gone, blown to cosmic dust, and a frantic schedule in the months after it had happened had spared her from the worst of her grief. Now, one year later, when everything else ground to a halt she was often surprised to discover that she felt little at all. No, this feeling of nothing wasn't new at all.

Right before she drifted off to sleep, it occurred to her that the reason she couldn't feel anything was because the grief was still too huge for her to acknowledge. It was a huge and terrible thing and she was only one person, and eventually it would all start to break up.

Then, the pieces would all come crashing down around at her at once.

It felt as though she'd been asleep for five minutes when Han tore the privacy curtain aside.

He leaned over and sniffed. Behind him, Chewie howled and pointed. Then he reached over and yanked on the hem of her tunic.

"Yeah, yeah," Han said. "I smell it too."

"What do you think you're doing?" Leia stiffly bolted into a sitting position.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?"

"I'm serious." Han reclined against the outside of the bunk and reached his arm across so that she couldn't climb down. "You're covered in syrris."

"Oh." She wondered if syrris was an airborne Lunerian toxin.

Her confusion must have been apparent because he added, "It's a type of spice."

If he'd just asked her to polish his boots with her own spit, she couldn't have been more flabbergasted. "Are you out of your blasted mind?" she snapped.

Han Solo never wasted his time answering rhetorical questions. "Chewie smelled syrris seed extract on you earlier. He still smells it. It must be on your clothes." Beside him, the Wookiee shook his shaggy mane and howled an affirmative.

Leia managed to contain her sense of indignation for another ten seconds before blurting out, "I didn't take anything."

Han ran his thumb over a callous on the inside of his index finger. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "It's onboard my ship and it's on you. We've already checked out Blix. He's clean." Han shrugged helplessly. "We haven't checked Roan out yet."

"I'm sure it isn't Roan."

Han acted as though he hadn't heard her. "You were in the crew cabin talking to him earlier. Did you touch anything when you were in there?"

Leia was so busy processing the fact that there'd been a deliberate order to their shipboard search that she didn't process the question. "What do you mean?"

"Did-you-touch-anything?"

Leia grit her teeth. "Could you be any vaguer?"

Han rolled his eyes. "You don't necessarily have to ingest it," he explained, as though the finer methods of getting high off syrris seed extract were something every well-bred princess learned at finishing school. "It can be absorbed through your skin." He scratched his cheek. "What about back on Lunera?"

"I only had water."

"Ahhh… That explains your shirt."

He was right. Roan had spilled her entire glass and it had almost seemed to be on purpose. Leia swung her legs over the side. "You have to let me handle this."

"How are you going to handle it?"

"I don't know." She shook her head in an attempt to clear her head but her mind was racing. Damn it. Had Roan been trying to drug her back on Lunera? "I'll ask him to turn over whatever he's brought on board so you can space it."

"You need to lose the shirt. I want any trace of it off our ship. "

"Of course," she said calmly. "I'll space it as soon as you get out of here."

"And…" Han set his jaw in a peculiar manner; it was tight and almost menacing. "I think you should call off the mission."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Get it first. I'll tell you after."

"Han-"

"And don't tell him you're calling if off. Wait for me."

Han was trying to convince Blix to vacate the main hold when he heard Leia call his name. Over the course of his life, he'd learned that there were times when people called your name in such a way that you knew, before you even saw them, that everything that could be wrong was wrong.

This was one of them.

He turned around slowly.

Leia and Roan were standing in the passageway. The left side of Leia's face had collided with something knuckled; it was decorated with swelling reddish bruises. Roan had one arm wrapped stranglehold style about her throat, and his hand, turned inward, jammed her tiny holdout blaster up against her jugular. In his free hand, Leia's blaster was aimed at them both. The pair crept into the galley as one awkwardly moving body, Leia staggering slightly. "She's half-dead," Roan hissed. "Don't move. I might slip."

Han had only held a blaster sideways with his thumb on the press-plate that way once. That occasion, he'd fired accidentally. He kept his voice steady. "What do you want?"

"Remove your blaster. Set it on the deck. Kick it over here."

Han did as he asked.

"Draw your pantlegs up above your boot."

Hoping Chewie was nearby plotting an intervention, Han pulled his pantlegs up fractionally one by one and said, "I'm carrying another piece."

"Same deal. Over here."

Han was on the verge of wondering if Roan would have him take off all his clothes when Roan shoved Leia forward and blasted off a shot. He managed to catch Leia as she fell, but not without losing his balance and tumbling backwards into the tech station chair. Leia landed on his lap. Blix fell to the deck with a scream, clutching his leg.

"Careful, Captain. You must have some restraints onboard."

"This isn't a slave ship. I don't transport prisoners. Now what the hell do you think you're trying to do?" Although his first instinct was to get Leia behind him, not sit with her as a human shield on his lap, at present he didn't trust her not to do something crazy like charge a'Penaru with her bare hands. The cords in the back of her neck were standing out and she'd gone white all over down to the roots of her hair. He caught her more tightly about the waist.

"Am doing," Roan corrected. "I'm taking over your ship."

"Over my dead body." The only thing worse than the prospect of dying was the prospect of dying and leaving the Millennium Falcon in the hands of a piece of slime like a'Penaru. You swore this would never happen again after the last time. Chewie had done the same, cursing for a week straight in the name of Graaa'shad, the Kashyyyk fire-spirit whose mischief had accidentally spawned the Wookiee life-debt.

"Perhaps. Perhaps we'll all be dead. I don't care what happens to you, to be honest." Roan blasted off a second bolt of energy and the hall lighting system exploded in a shower of sparks.

Han glanced over his head, praying the source of the bitter chemical odour wafting into the main hold wasn't the fluidics system. Maybe Roan really didn't actually intend to kill anyone. The bad news was that the current situation was far too sloppy to be the Alderaanian's original plan, unless his neo-cortex was in the process of being dissolved by the ix dbukirii parasite. It was more like a desperate attempt to regain control of a hastily disintegrating scheme and in his experience, desperate men were often more dangerous than stone-cold killers. Reluctantly, he decided it was in the Falcon's best interests that he be cooperative. "In the supply closet beside the on-ramp. I have a few pairs of binders."

"I knew you could be cooperative." Roan stepped forward and kicked Blix in the ribs. "Get up and retrieve them whatever is in there. Any funny business and Captain Solo will be vaporized."

Blix scrambled to his feet, moaning. Blood soaked his upper right thigh.

Leia, looking pale, slid from Han's lap onto the floor. "This is nonsense."

Han glowered at him. "I know you didn't pick that stuff up on Lunera."

"The syrris? I'm surprised you're aware of that," Roan said. "It's not exactly common knowledge."

"I have a few acquaintances in low places," Han replied dryly. The Empire had secretly controlled all syrris production for a few years and never permitted it to seep into the black market. Roan's syrris supply could probably be traced directly back to the Imperial Medical Research Guild. It had certain soporific qualities that made it desirable for use on large humanoids but it had never caught on as a recreational spice. "Admit it, you're working for them."

Roan braced himself against the bulkhead while he primed Leia's blaster and peered in the direction of the supply closet. "Didn't you hear the one about the Imperial informants from Alderaan?"

Han sneered. "You became an endangered species after the Empire destroyed your planet."

"Precisely."

"The Emperor wouldn't go through this much trouble for either of us. You're the one who insisted Leia come to you, a'Penaru. That whole shebang on Lunera, the Imps spooking us so we decided to take you off-planet. What was the real plan?" Han shook his head. "It had to be brilliant if they didn't pick Leia up the second we landed."

"You thought I'd bring you back to the Alliance with me." Leia touched the swollen plane of her cheek. "You were going to alert them to the location of the Fleet."

"It's not that simple," Roan replied. "The Imperials acquired misinformation leading them to believe that the alleged target is their tiny military outpost at Obroa-skai. They have no idea that the Furor and their orbital research station are the actual hit."

"What are you saying?" Leia asked.

"My Princess, I have every intention of going ahead with the real mission."

Han feigned a patience he didn't possess. "If this is some elaborate plan to show us you've reformed and you want to go blow up the Empire, I'm not going to stop you. As a matter of fact, I'll be happy to fly you all the way to Duros myself. Why don't you put the blaster away and the rest of this trip will be that much more pleasant for all of us."

"Simple logic, Captain Solo. I wouldn't trust me. By the very nature of what I've admitted to you in the past few minutes I certainly don't expect you to trust me. As it stands you'll likely spend most of the voyage wondering whether or not I'm hand-delivering you to the Emperor."

Leia was incredulous. "What about the last few missions?"

"Child's play, all of them. The Emperor knew about them beforehand and was prepared to make certain sacrifices in order to lay a trap for the Alliance."

"The Tynnan," Leia said. "Your assistant?"

Roan rubbed at his hand. "Oh, yes. He was a double-agent working for the Sector Moff. They thought I didn't know. We were supposed to go with you together."

Just then, Blix returned clutching two sets of binders and a thick roll of spacetape. Roan gestured with the nose of his weapon. "Tape him to his chair."

"Sorry, Han," Blix said.

"It's not your fault."

"There were others who felt as I do," Roan added effusively. "Others who were fighting against Organa and his politics." He gestured scornfully. "I knew you'd put your heart and soul into dissuading me from the mission. I didn't want to try and drug you back on Lunera. You never gave up, not even when you were a girl. You were infuriatingly inexhaustible with your passion and idealism, unorthodox as your ideas were. I remember it so well."

"You meant every word you said back there."

"I couldn't have prevented what happened to Alderaan," he said. "The war divided its own. I warned Bail what the end result of his recklessness would be and he wouldn't hear me."

Roan stepped nearer and Leia inched her body away from him toward the base of the holotable. "The Empiredestroyed Alderaan, not my father."

"Choices destroyed Alderaan." Roan ordered Blix to cuff her hands to the base of the holo-table, and then ordered Blix to cuff himself. After that, he gathered up the space tape and wrapped Han's legs and arms again. When he seemed satisfied that Han wouldn't be able to free himself, his eyes shifted to the smoke-filled passageway. "Do you want to know the greatest irony of all?"

"You've become part of what you hate," she answered.

He spoke as though they were alone. "Had I seduced you that night, Alderaan might still exist. The affair, the scandal, wouldn't have been received well by your constituents-to-be." Soundlessly, Leia twisted her face toward the belly of the table and away from him. "Imagine the princess, running for senator, caught having an affair with a man twice her age during the Grand Alderaanian Gathering. Your political career would have ended in disgrace. Your opponent was simply more open-eared to our concerns."

Han longed to swing a fist at him. "What's your point, a'Penaru?" He tested his spacetape bonds, with debatable success; an incredible pain blossomed throughout his lower forearm as a tiny section of hair was yanked clean by the roots. I didn't know that could hurt so much. This get-up is more effective than stun-cuffs. "That you failed to manipulate a kid and your entire planet paid for it?"

"I have the opportunity to right a wrong."A'Penaru's face pinched before he turned for the cockpit. "I apologize that it has to be this way. You see, it had to be you on Lunera, in order to convince them to trust me."

When he left Leia craned her neck over her shoulder and glared. The shock was beginning to wear off and she was angry. "I wasn't a child," she snapped. "I don't need you standing up for me."

"Sorry princess. I haven't got anything better to do. Blix? How's the leg?"

"It hurts like hell," he groaned. "Say Solo, you didn't tell me you were running with a bunch of psychotic revolutionaries."

Onboard the ship there was nowhere for the settling smoke to go but drift throughout the ship, uncoiling like the heavy ocean fogs of the Afterworld. There was a thronging sound, or a pounding, far off, in the vicinity of the portside airlock. Relieved that Chewie was alive and conscious Han smiled to himself. "Yeah? What did you think the Alliance was all about?"

The Falcon dropped out of hyperspace.

Leia kept glaring. "How far from Duros are we?"

"Depends on what kind course he sets," he answered grimly. Han didn't want to think about Roan touching the Falcon's controls. In fact, if a'Penaru strapped him into the co-pilot's seat and forced him to watch his flying, Han thought he just might break and tell him that the fleet was currently concealed behind the third moon of Meastrinnar in the Sern System. "Could be ten timeparts. Could be a little over a standard day."

Blix moaned again. "And to think you were worried about me bringing a little giggle-dust on board. That your Wookiee made me dump it out."

Han raised an eyebrow. "He had orders to dump you in the nearest gutter if he found anything on you."

"He's a softer touch than you are."

No, Han amended; Chewbacca had the added advantage of actually being able to smell honest desperation. And he wished his co-pilot were with him now. He said, "I think hell might actually be freezing over."

Time ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace.

The truth crept up on her, increment by increment, until there was no doubt. It was mind-numbing. It pinched her lungs so that she couldn't breathe. Everything he'd said back on Lunera made sense now. At seventeen she'd been nothing more than a pawn in his plans.

Roan hadn't had a choice but to confess immediately when she inquired about the syrris. She'd never seen the blow coming. He'd caught her from behind just as she turned to leave the crew cabin.

"Your Wookiee practically made me strip my clothes off. I was starting to think he had a thing for humans," Blix was saying, in a comparatively miserable position beside her, "And he just waltzed onboard plotting to take over your ship?"

Han managed to look surprisingly insolent despite his bonds. "Well, I didn't plan this."

"Blix." Leia awkwardly managed to get her foot up by his hands. Roan had made one mistake. Although he'd frisked Blix and Han carefully, after taking her holdout blaster from her sleeve, he hadn't bothered to search her more thoroughly. Her vibroblade was still tucked safely against the knob of her anklebone. The binders were ancient. They would be easy to break.

"Honey, look. You seem like a nice enough girl but I don't know you very well," he began.

"Inside my boot," she amended, struggling to conceal her crossness. "You might be able to pick the locks."

"You're just mentioning this now?" Han guffawed.

"I just remembered," she lied crisply, smiling just enough that he lurched against his bonds. There was no point in explaining that she'd been giving Roan a chance to rethink his plan and free them on his own. Apparently that wasn't going to happen. Imitating Han's irritating habit of playing it cool under the worst of circumstances, Leia smiled and made a promise she had every intention of keeping. "Relax. I got us into this. I'll get us out of it."

"Terrific." Han forced an insincere smile. "I feel so much better."

"Ah… and it just so happens I have some experience with undoing these things. Lot of things actually…"

"That's very useful," Leia muttered dryly.

Blix paused with his thumb over her anklebone. "It's been a while. Not since we were locked up on Tarrasa, eh Solo?"

"That was the last time?"

"Remember Yura?

Han frowned. "She had you arrested."

"I'd forgive her in a heartbeat." Blix's eyes hazed over with nostalgia. The nostalgia subsided and was replaced was irritation. "Unfortunately, she had her designs set on you and you were more than happy to oblige. I'd almost forgotten about that."

Leia cleared her throat and Blix suddenly produced the vibroblade from her boot.

"Forgotten?" Han thrummed his fingers on the armrest in annoyance. They were the only part of his body aside from his neck that he could move. "I'm the one who convinced her to drop the charges."

"Ah yes. You never did say how you did that?"

"Never underestimate the power of good conversation."

Blix frowned and poked the tip of the vibroblade into the binder's lock. "You don't speak Tarhassian."

"I know a few words."

"Harder and faster don't need to be translated verbatim."

Against her will, Leia felt her face redden and stared very hard at the passageway leading to the cockpit.

Han swore beneath his breath. "Could you explain to me why didn't I leave you to rot on Lunera?"

"She had the most beautiful blue eyes in five star systems and hair like spun alabaster. You listen to me, sweetie, and be careful," he said. "Han Solo never stays in one place long enough to grow roots. The second that starts to happen, off he flies in this ship of his as though he has a Star Destroyer on his tail." The binders clicked and fell slightly apart. "Ooh," he said. "That ought to do it."

Leia didn't have time to respond to the comfortless snatch of information or consider why it mattered under the circumstances. She saw a shadow creeping down the passageway and whispered, "company," while carefully keeping her hands in position so that the binders wouldn't slip down.

"Everyone comfortable?"

"Not particularly," Han exclaimed defiantly. "Personally, I think you've seen way to many old holo-films." He bucked his arms and legs against the thrice-wrapped spacetape. "Was this all necessary?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I'm better safe than sorry. It's only for a few hours longer."

"Roan," Leia implored, begging him silently not to visually inspect her restraints too closely. "At least get Blix something for his leg from the medpac." Blix moaned for good effect and rested his head on the holotable seat. "It should still be in the crew cabin. He's in a lot of pain and I don't think causing unnecessary suffering was ever part of your makeup."

"Very well. I can do that."

Hurriedly, Leia shook the binders free and scrambled to her feet. She raced up the starboard passageway. By an enormous stroke of good fortune and good luck, the airlock where Chewie was trapped wasn't on the same side as the crew cabin and the open medpac. Leia hit the hatch-switch and came face to face with three hundred pounds of snarling, furious Wookiee. With a roar, he raced headfirst around the loop and four seconds later Leia heard a man's cry and a loud thump. When she caught up to him, Roan was lying unconscious on the deckplates. Chewie stood over him, shaking his fist and bellowing epithets.

"Chewie, is that you?" Han began shouting. "Just shove him in an airlock and get in here!"

"Go ahead." Leia grabbed Roan's upper arms and began dragging him backwards. He slid easily into the airlock. She stopped to check his pulse and breathing, and then sealed him inside.

When she returned to the main hold a new struggle was underway.

"Whoa. Be gentle."

"Honestly Han, I think fast is your best option," Blix suggested helpfully.

Han grit his teeth as though preparing for the worst. "Fine."

Chewbacca chuckled.

"Yeah? You think it's funny? Have you looked in the mirror lately, you mangy hairy monster?" Han gestured with his chin toward the Wookiee's massive body. "This could be you."

Chewie muttered something that Leia mentally translated as; I'm strong enough to break a few measly strips of spacetape. She had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

"Yeah?" Solo snapped. "How much do you want to bet?"

"Killing him isn't going to solve anything. Killing us wasn't part of his plan, remember?"

"Sorry, I forgot the noble part of his plan that had to do with blasting Blix's leg and taking my ship hostage-"

"All so that he could complete his mission." Leia gouged her nails into her palm and resisted the urge to scream. They'd been having the same argument for longer than most Imperial Senate debate periods lasted, and although she'd attempted to empathize with how Han felt after having his ship molested even her empathy had limits. "What about his representative back on Lunera?" she reminded him. "If taking us hostage had been part of his plan all along, don't you think he would have kept him around to help?"

"It's not as if we'd called off the mission yet," Han countered.

"He knew we would."

"Yeah, right." Han peered into the airlock again and smiled thinly while punching the intercom. "What's the matter a'Penaru? Just say the word if you want me to punch it. You won't be the first to go out that way."

"Han, cut it out!"

"Have any better suggestions?"

Leia rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Han glanced inside the airlock again. "What the hell…"

Roan had stripped off his shirt and was unwinding a wide metallic band from about his waist. As the last of the metal peeled away, Leia saw the bright scar that cut diagonally across the lower right quadrant of his back. It was only a few months old, if that.

The expression on Han's face shifted dramatically. He hit the intercom again. "Is that what I think it is?"

The Alderaanian jerked the band closed. "I'm going to die, sooner rather than later. Nothing either of you do will change that."

"Shit." Han ran the back of his hand over his forehead. "Just when I thought nothing else could go wrong today. Why did I actually think it? I know better than to jinx myself."

On any other occasion Leia would have sarcastically recommended he find a licensed therapist but she found that she didn't have it in her. "What is it?"

"He's got some sort of transmitter jammed in between his kidney and intestines."

"Like a tracking device?"

"If it is I doubt that makeshift corset he's wearing can block a trace indefinitely."

Leia bit her lip and sagged against the wall. She knew the old slaver's beacons had been set to self-destruct when a slave exceeded their range or they were tampered with. She sincerely doubted the Empire would have implanted a transmitter without ensuring it couldn't be removed without killing its host.

"You know what this means," Han was saying.

"Yes, I can put two and two together." She came back to reality as though waking from a bad dream. The longer Roan was onboard the Millennium Falcon the more danger they were in.

"We've got to dump him as soon as possible."

"I know, damn it." She rubbed at her face. "Give me a second to think."

"Listen, your holiness." Han steadied himself wearily and massaged his sore forearm. "We've been flying nowhere for a day. I don't take well to having my ship shot up, having my passengers bleed all over the decks and for your information having the hair ripped out of my arms is definitely not my idea of fun. I'm not in the mood for thinking. The longer he stays on the Falcon, the sooner the Empire catches up with us. I don't think we need to keep waving our asses at fate. We've already had just about enough things go wrong for one day."

Leia glared at him. "Everything is not about you."

"Yeah. I get it."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," she retorted.

"He's right about one thing. Nothing we can do is going to save him. Eventually they'll find him."

Leia grit her teeth. Slowly, she said, "And he doesn't deserve to die like that."

"All right, all right," Han said, as though giving up on an old argument. "We can stick him in a smuggling compartment before we drop out of hyperspace. They're scan shielded. It should buy us some extra time while we decide what to do with him."He scratched his chin. "Unless you have a better idea."

After a long moment of silence, she said, "I don't. Are you sure he'll be all right in there?"

"For a few hours, sure."

"Halloo," Blix called merrily.

"Oh fuck," Han said.

"How much of the narcon did he take?"

"Probably the entire vial. Hey Chewie! I told you not to let him out of the crew cabin."

Leia banged her head against the bulkhead and added loopy Sacorrian with a spice addiction to their list of problems. At least the blaster wound to his thigh had turned out to be fairly superficial, although it would probably leave a nasty scar.

Han yanked the cover to a smuggling compartment back so hard it nearly snapped. Then he set his palm on the airlock access switch. "You ready?"

Leia withdrew her blaster from its holster. "Take a step in my direction," she warned as the access door slipped apart, "and I'll do exactly as Captain Solo threatened. We're moving you to a smuggling compartment for the time being."

"May I ask what happens to me next?"

"We haven't decided anything quite yet."

"Let me go ahead with the mission."

"I don't know," she said, cradling her blaster in her arms the way she would her own infant.

"I mean it," he said softly. "Bring me to Duros and let me go. I won't fail you again."

Leia swallowed. "Who was your wife?" she asked. "I want to know."

"Mira Tarkona," he said.

Well, that explained a lot. She gestured toward the gaping hole in the deck. "Get in and lay down." She thought, you were right. I should hate you. But she said,"All right."

Han set a hand on her arm. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes I do," Leia said firmly, never breaking eye contact with Roan. In her own ears her voice sounded as though it was made of durasteel. "You'd better get to the cockpit. We'll be nearing Duros soon."

"How could you?" she heard herself ask. "I looked up to you."

Roan wrapped his arms around his knees. "I know you did."

"My father depended on you."

"I let you both down."

"I felt that it was wrong, that night. I didn't know why, but now I do."She twisted her lower lip. "Alderaan would still have been destroyed, whether or not I was elected to the Senate. You didn't know it at the time but I was already working for the Alliance. As a member of the Organa family I didn't need the position within the senate for diplomatic work."

"I had no idea Bail had you so deeply involved."

"We kept that a secret from everyone."Leia set the blaster down and settled herself onto the ledge so that her legs were dangling inside the compartment. She was no longer worried that Roan would try to escape, or make any aggressive moves.

Roan bowed his head. "May I apologise for striking you, Your Highness?"

Leia pursed her lips. "Yes, you may."

Roan sounded defeated when he finally spoke again. He said, "Now, we're our own sort of Afterworlders, aren't we?"

Leia stretched her arm down into the smuggling compartment and took his hand.