SECOND CHANCES, PART 2/3
By Kathryn Olsen
"We've been given a second chance at the war."
Leia Organa pulled up a file on the datapad. "Captain Solo's contacts on Ord Mantell
have offered to negotiate for a sizable amount of weaponry and vehicles."
"Negotiate," Major Bern snorted. "They're smugglers. Their idea of diplomatic patience
is a matter of how long their blaster power pack lasts."
Leia's eyes narrowed in annoyance. Bern was the most inflexible officer on Echo Base
and insufferably self-righteous. It would make sense that he would veto this mission on grounds
of who the contact happened to be.
"Nevertheless," she continued, "the materiel is a good step towards recovering what we
lost at Derra IV."
"Do we have the resources to negotiate for that sort of equipment," General Carlist
Rieekan asked.
Leia sighed. "Probably not as much as we'd like, but we will appropriate what we can."
"And who is to lead this mission?"
Leia glanced at the flooring. "I am."
Rieekan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Leia, Ord Mantell is not the safest place
for a Princess of Alderaan."
"Hoth is not the safest place," she countered. "But I am not doing this as a Princess
of Alderaan. I am doing this because I am the best negotiator on this base."
Leia sat back and fixed Rieekan with a stare, almost daring him to deny her the opportunity.
He returned the gaze for a long moment, then sighed in resignation.
"When do you leave?"
She allowed herself a small smile. "Tomorrow morning."
Bern nodded. "Come to my office in four hours and we will discuss the exact flexibility
of our funds."
"Yes, Major."
Rieekan pushed to his feet. "If there is nothing else, this meeting is adjourned."
Leia shut off her datapad and stood, gathering her materials. She tucked the datacards
into the pocket of her snowsuit and her datapad into another.
"Leia, a word?"
She turned to smile at Rieekan. "General, with you, it's never just one word."
"True." He beckoned her to walk with him. "Are you sure about this?"
She sighed. "Absolutely. Mon Mothma was actually the one to suggest that I go along.
I know you trust her judgment."
"As I trust yours," he countered. "I am only concerned for how much risk you're willing
to put yourself at."
She frowned deeply. They'd had this conversation far too many times over the past three
years. "No more than anyone else on base, General."
"You are a leader of the Rebellion."
"I am an insurgent; job security is not in the contract."
"I would prefer you let someone else handle the negotiations."
She shook her head adamantly. "I don't trust anyone else that far, except for you."
She smiled slightly. "Besides, I'll be backed up by Captain Solo. Killing me would ruin his
reputation."
Rieekan snorted and grinned in spite of himself. "Your logic is stunning."
She hooked her arm through his and smiled encouragingly. "I'll be fine. You have nothing
to worry about."
Rieekan rolled his eyes. "That's what they said about Toprawa."
Leia winced at the memory of what the mission to retrieve the Death Star plans had cost
them all. Millions had died with Alderaan and Toprawa, the transfer point, had been bombed into
technological impotence. On the other hand, they'd destroyed the Death Star, saving hundreds
of star systems from the same fate as Alderaan.
"That entire mission was a fiasco," she agreed. "We can't guarantee that this mission
won't be disastrous, but such is the case with anything we undertake as rebels."
He halted in the middle of the corridor and turned her to face him. He gripped her
shoulders gently, forcing her to meet his concerned gaze. "Promise me you'll come back safely."
She nodded. "To the best of my abilities."
He embraced her tightly. "That's all we can ask for."
* * *
"Anyone home?"
There was a crash and a loud expletive from the cockpit. Leia grinned and set her satchel
on the floor of the main hold.
"I'll take that as a yes, then?"
Han Solo emerged from the cockpit, rubbing his head. "Stang, Your Worship, don't you
ever knock?"
She shrugged. "If you want formalities, don't leave your door open."
He winced. "Very true. You ready to go?"
She grinned. "Punctuality is one of my virtues." She glanced towards the cockpit.
"Do you need help with anything?"
"No," he grumbled. "I was just rewiring the navcomputer."
"Is that safe?"
"Probably not," he said wryly, "but one of the boards had a short and I had to redirect
the circuit so we don't end up in the middle of the Maw."
"So can we be going?"
"As soon as we get the engines warmed up. It's a lot harder to counteract a cold start
when the rest of the planet is a giant snowball." He turned a grin on her. "The climate control
is finally working, so this should be the warmest place on base in about ten seconds."
"Not very hard to accomplish," she countered.
He gestured to the crew quarters. "You should get set up. It's a long ways to Ord
Mantell and if I know our contact, you'll need all the rest you can get."
* * *
Leia stumbled into the galley, yawning. Han looked up and grinned. "Stay right there.
I'm going to get a holorecorder for the noble purposes of blackmail."
"Shove a hydrospanner in it, Solo," she grumbled.
"There's that charm again."
"It's morning and I had a very restless night," she countered.
His grin disappeared. "More nightmares?"
She nodded, sinking onto the bench across from him. "They've gotten worse since Derra
IV."
His brow furrowed. "I'm sorry."
She offered a weary smile. "It's not your fault, despite what I'd like to think."
He stood and poured two cups of caf. "This should help with the grogginess."
She sipped at her mug and grimaced. "You've been taking cooking lessons from our Cor
Sec friends, haven't you?"
"Wedge Antilles, actually. His parents taught him to make it strong and bitter, with
the right consistency to substitute for engine lubricants if necessary."
She cradled the mug in her hands. "So that's what you use to keep this thing running."
"That and the legendary Solo luck."
She laughed softly. "Why am I not surprised?"
"No person can survive what I have without a bit of luck."
"Luke would say there is no luck, only the Force."
Han shook his head. "I have no trust in the intangible
He handed her a plate. "We'll be at Ord Mantell in about four hours. You should be
well-fed and fully alert by then. As your humble servant..."
"Humble," she snorted.
He turned a mock-hurt expression her. "As your humble servant, it's my job to make
sure that happens."
"How very reassuring."
He frowned. "Have I ever failed you?"
She rolled her eyes. "Let's see..."
"Not counting the Seteri mission."
"And Tysan VII."
He winced. "I'd nearly forgotten about that one. Though I must say that you got yourself
shot."
"Very true," she said, rubbing her arm. "But that was covering your back."
"I would have done the same for you."
Her mouth twitched. "I don't doubt it for one second. Despite what we'd all like to
think, you're a very unselfish person."
He bowed his head slightly. "Thank you for noticing."
She sipped her caf again, then set the mug on the table and went to work on the food.
"Why can't we always do this?"
"What?"
Leia tapped her fork against her lips thoughtfully. "Given our experiences since the
moment I stepped out of that cell on the Death Star, I would have never guessed that we could
actually have a civilized conversation."
"It must be the grogginess talking," he said with a grin.
She shook her head thoughtfully. "It's not that."
He sat across from her and mimicked her thoughtful scowl. "Maybe all people need in
this life are second chances. Luke and I gave you a second chance at life that day on the Death
Star; now you're giving me a second chance at being the kind of friend you deserve."
"I don't deserve anything," she said quietly. "Every person that has come into my life
has been an unwarranted blessing."
"Even me?"
She smiled slightly. "Especially you. I won't say that I'm glad for the circumstances
under which we met, but I'm glad that we did. You and Luke and even Chewbacca are the only
things that have kept me relatively sane."
"Glad to help," he said quietly.
She smiled and hefted her mug. "Then here's to second chances."
* * *
"Coming up on Ord Mantell," Han called. "You might want to make yourself presentable."
Leia placed her hands on her hips and scowled with royal indignance. "What's wrong
with the way I look now?"
"Absolutely nothing," he admitted. "That's the problem. You don't look like someone
who would be hanging around a tapcaf waiting for her shipment to offload."
She threw him a wink. "I'm sure I could find something suitable."
He brought the Falcon in for a landing and arrived at the top of the ramp to find the
Princess of Alderaan looking quite unusual.
Intelligence had provided her with a midnight blue body stocking edged with red piping.
Over that, she wore knee-high boots, a utility belt, a holster, and a light flight jacket. Her
hair was pinned back from her temples, but fell in soft waves to her waist.
She plucked at a seam on the jacket, obviously self-conscious. "Think I'll fit in?"
"I'll say one thing for you. If we get sold out, the opposition will be too enamored
to do anything useful."
She blushed fiercely. "My father would kill me for going out dressed as this."
He offered an arm. "Your father would understand."
Leia linked her arm through his and they headed down the ramp. "How far is the tapcafe?"
"It's in the spaceport about 6 bays southeast of here."
"That's a relief," she said quietly. "These boots are killing me."
He snorted and led her out of the docking bay. "Let me make the initial contact, since
I know him. I'll break his spirit, then toss him to you to finish off."
She smiled in spite of herself. "You have a stunning grasp of diplomatic relations,"
she said wryly.
"That's another thing. Try to keep your vocabulary under six syllables. Not all of
my friends are as brilliant as I am."
She laughed. "I'll try."
"You'll like this one," he promised. "He's an Alderaanian."
She turned a startled look on him. "You're kidding."
He grinned. "Not all smugglers are Corellian scum. You may even be able to work that
to our advantage."
"Hopefully," she agreed. "We're under a tight budget as it is."
The tapcafe, a seedy establishment under the name of Sleight of Hand, was dimly lit
and overcrowded. The perfect place to hide a meeting between insurgents...
Or a spy.
"Keep a sharp eye out," she advised Han quietly, keeping an easy smile on her face.
"Don't I always," he countered.
"Something to drink?"
Leia looked up to see a Twi'lek server waiting impatiently. "Flameout, light on the
phosphorescent agent."
"Corellian whiskey," Han ordered.
The server disappeared and Han moved over, drawing her under his arm. "Where did you
learn such abominable drinking habits?"
She smiled. "You don't make friends in the Star Fighter Command without picking up
a taste for the odd things in life. The Flameout's a favorite of the Black Deaths." She shrugged.
"At least it's not lum."
He stiffened suddenly. "See our contact?"
He responded by kissing her passionately, forcefully. Startled, she pushed against
his chest, but he dug his fingernails into her bicep and she relaxed into the kiss. Finally,
he pulled her away and clasped her to him.
"We've got trouble," he said into her hair.
"Imperials?"
"Worse," he muttered. "Bounty hunter. We can only hope that he isn't after either one
of us."
She glanced around. "In a place like this, it could be anyone."
"Nevertheless, if he recognizes either one of us, it could mean disaster. We've both
got death marks on our heads."
She sucked in her breath. "Perhaps we should move this conversation elsewhere."
"If we can live until Kharten gets here." He pulled back slightly. "Go. About four
bays to the west is an abandoned docking bay. Number 197. Wait for us there."
"I'm not leaving you here."
He shook his head. "It's safer this way. Take the long route to shake any pursuit."
She leaned in to kiss him. "Don't you dare get yourself killed," she said quietly.
"Not until I get paid," he countered. "See you soon."
* * *
"Long time no see, Solo."
Han turned to see Set Kharten slide into a chair across from him. "Don't get too comfortable,"
he countered quietly. "We're moving this party elsewhere."
Kharten's eyes narrowed. "Bounty hunter?"
Han nodded. "Our veteran negotiator is waiting at Bay 197."
The server finally returned with the drinks. "Anything for you, sir?"
Kharten glanced at the Flameout. "Our friend was called away; I'll just have her drink."
The Twi'lek let out an exasperated sigh at the lost profit. "Yes, sir."
Han knocked back the shot of whiskey and grimaced. "Not the best quality, but the
hired help certainly makes up for it."
Kharten downed the Flameout and tossed a sampling of local currency into the center
of the table. "Shall we be going?"
They stood and made their way to the exit. Han could see no pursuit, but bounty hunters
were notoriously skilled at melting into shadows. They kept up a steady stream of idle conversation,
wending their way towards 197.
The door was, as expected, unlocked. Han drew his blaster for good measure and stepped
into the darkened bay.
"She should be here."
He flicked the light on to find Leia lying crumpled in an alarming pool of blood. Han
rushed to her side and gently inspected her. She was unconscious due to a fairly deep gash
at the back of her skull. She had been beaten, but there were no blaster wounds, thankfully,
and her vitals were strong.
"I have a very bad feeling about this," Han commented.
"Who did this to her? There's no one here."
"Don't be so sure of that, Solo."
From the recesses of the bay, a bounty hunter in Mandalorian armor stepped. Boba Fett.
"I couldn't have her interfering in business," he said coldly, "and I'm sure Lord Vader
would probably be very interested in recapturing her."
"Over my dead body," Han growled.
"That's the idea," Fett countered. "You went too far with the Hutt and now I am authorized
to deliver a corpse to him."
"Deliver your own."
Han drew his blaster and fired at the unprotected neck area in one swift movement.
Fett lunged to the side, the shot ricocheting harmlessly off of his armor. His blaster rifle
came up and he squeezed of a double burst. Han caught one in the arm, but he rolled, coming
up into a crouch to fire once more at the bounty hunter. The shot hit only armor, but it distracted
him enough for Kharten to get a stun shot off. The Mandalorian collapsed.
"Nice shot," Han gritted, glancing at the crusted flesh of his upper arm.
"You're lucky he didn't get better aim," Kharten countered. "I think we should see
to your friend."
Han removed his jacket painfully and used his vibroblade to cut it into strips. He
used these to bandage her head as best as he could. He then lifted her battered form into his
arms gently.
The movement caused her to stir. She blinked against the light and raised a hand to
her forehead. "Where's the Mandalorian?"
"Stunned."
Kharten held out his arms. "I don't think you should aggravate that wound further,
Solo."
Leia's eyes snapped open. "What wound," she gasped.
"Just a minor arm wound," he assured her, passing her to Kharten. "Not as bad as it
could have been."
She glanced at Kharten warily. "You're our contact?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
She grimaced. "Let me down. Carrying me through the spaceport would attract too much
attention."
Kharten set her down and she leaned heavily against Han, favoring her right leg. Upon
further inspection, the knee was severely dislocated. She eyed Kharten's hooded overcloak.
"I'll need that to conceal my face and head."
Kharten swept it off and fastened it about her. She pulled the hood up, effectively
concealing her features. Han could see her biting her lip. "We have to put the joint back
into place."
"It'll be painful," Han said quietly.
"Can't be worse than it already is."
He helped her sit and Kharten supported her from the back. Thankful that he couldn't
see her face, Han wrenched the knee back into place. She strangled back a scream and sagged
against Kharten.
"I'm sorry."
She shook her head vaguely. "Help me up. We should get out of here before anyone else
takes an interest in us."
Han nodded and helped her to stand. Her hood fell back and he could see that her pale
cheeks were awash with tears, her face drawn. She caught his eye, then looked away and replaced
the hood.
"I don't know about you, Kharten, but I'm sure Han here can impersonate a drunken stagger
fairly well. We'll have to keep up the appearance of three revelers returning to their ship
after a night of too much hospitality."
Kharten smiled slightly. "I never thought I'd see a logical mind associated with Solo."
"We'll hold the negotiations on the *Falcon,*" Han interjected. "Ready?"
"As ever."
They each took an arm, draping them over their shoulders. Leia hobbled forward and they
left the docking bay, staggering as much as possible without causing further discomfort.
"They're watching us," Han murmured.
"Not surprising," Leia countered.
Abruptly, she broke into song, the words slurred but intelligible. Kharten joined in,
off-key but just as enthusiastic. Han laughed loudly, cursing at a few of the on-lookers in
several languages.
"I'm never letting you live this down," he commented to Leia.
"Come on, pal," she slurred loudly with more than a little disdain. "Where's your sense
of fun?"
Kharten broke into another refrain of the Alderaanian drinking song. "Let's rejoice,
therefore, while we're still young. Let's rejoice, therefore, while we're still young..."
"After a joyful youth and after a terrible old age, the ground will hold us," Leia finished.
Han couldn't help laughing. He steered her into the *Falcon's* docking bay and palmed
the door shut. Leia promptly collapsed into Kharten's arms and he carried her up the ramp into
the ship.
"Put her in my cabin," Han called.
He found the *Falcon's* medkit and managed to clean and bandage his own wound before
heading back to his cabin.
Kharten was laughing easily. "I haven't heard that song since my last night on Alderaan
four years ago."
Leia rubbed her temples. "I'm not particularly proud that I know it."
"Where did you learn it?"
She smiled wistfully. "My father, as a matter of fact. I didn't know it was a drinking
song until much later. He taught it to me as a reminder to be human once in a while."
"A wise lesson," Han commented, crossing to her side.
"One I should remember more often," she countered. "Now, on to the matter of the armaments."
Kharten snorted. "Doesn't she ever stop to rest?"
Han grinned. "Not when there's a war to fight."
"The list you sent us was quite impressive."
"I have access to quite a range of supplies," Kharten said.
She nodded painfully. "One of our specialists drew up estimated cost values."
She removed the datacards from her pocket and handed the top one to Kharten. He pulled
up the file and scanned through. "Your specialist is well-informed."
She nodded and indicated the second datacard. He inserted it into the datapad and began
scanning through.
"We are prepared to give you, at most, seventy percent of the estimated value, given
their condition."
"I'm prepared to accept forty percent of the estimated value and no transport charges."
Leia caught her breath. "You're kidding," she said softly.
"All right, thirty-five."
She shook her head. "That's not what you deserve. "
He squeezed her hand. "Your Highness, surely you haven't forgotten your father's favorite
adage."
She frowned slightly. "'Alderaan is only as eternal as the compassion of its inhabitants?'"
He nodded. "I would honor your father's memory by being much more compassionate, but
it would drive me out of business."
She buried her face in her hands, then steepled her fingers and pressed them to her
lips.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He pulled up another file and made some quick calculations. "That's my final offer."
Leia looked over the figures. "Most satisfactory," she said softly. "We'll have the
money transferred to any line you wish."
He typed in a credit access number. "Only for a Princess of Alderaan."
By Kathryn Olsen
"We've been given a second chance at the war."
Leia Organa pulled up a file on the datapad. "Captain Solo's contacts on Ord Mantell
have offered to negotiate for a sizable amount of weaponry and vehicles."
"Negotiate," Major Bern snorted. "They're smugglers. Their idea of diplomatic patience
is a matter of how long their blaster power pack lasts."
Leia's eyes narrowed in annoyance. Bern was the most inflexible officer on Echo Base
and insufferably self-righteous. It would make sense that he would veto this mission on grounds
of who the contact happened to be.
"Nevertheless," she continued, "the materiel is a good step towards recovering what we
lost at Derra IV."
"Do we have the resources to negotiate for that sort of equipment," General Carlist
Rieekan asked.
Leia sighed. "Probably not as much as we'd like, but we will appropriate what we can."
"And who is to lead this mission?"
Leia glanced at the flooring. "I am."
Rieekan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Leia, Ord Mantell is not the safest place
for a Princess of Alderaan."
"Hoth is not the safest place," she countered. "But I am not doing this as a Princess
of Alderaan. I am doing this because I am the best negotiator on this base."
Leia sat back and fixed Rieekan with a stare, almost daring him to deny her the opportunity.
He returned the gaze for a long moment, then sighed in resignation.
"When do you leave?"
She allowed herself a small smile. "Tomorrow morning."
Bern nodded. "Come to my office in four hours and we will discuss the exact flexibility
of our funds."
"Yes, Major."
Rieekan pushed to his feet. "If there is nothing else, this meeting is adjourned."
Leia shut off her datapad and stood, gathering her materials. She tucked the datacards
into the pocket of her snowsuit and her datapad into another.
"Leia, a word?"
She turned to smile at Rieekan. "General, with you, it's never just one word."
"True." He beckoned her to walk with him. "Are you sure about this?"
She sighed. "Absolutely. Mon Mothma was actually the one to suggest that I go along.
I know you trust her judgment."
"As I trust yours," he countered. "I am only concerned for how much risk you're willing
to put yourself at."
She frowned deeply. They'd had this conversation far too many times over the past three
years. "No more than anyone else on base, General."
"You are a leader of the Rebellion."
"I am an insurgent; job security is not in the contract."
"I would prefer you let someone else handle the negotiations."
She shook her head adamantly. "I don't trust anyone else that far, except for you."
She smiled slightly. "Besides, I'll be backed up by Captain Solo. Killing me would ruin his
reputation."
Rieekan snorted and grinned in spite of himself. "Your logic is stunning."
She hooked her arm through his and smiled encouragingly. "I'll be fine. You have nothing
to worry about."
Rieekan rolled his eyes. "That's what they said about Toprawa."
Leia winced at the memory of what the mission to retrieve the Death Star plans had cost
them all. Millions had died with Alderaan and Toprawa, the transfer point, had been bombed into
technological impotence. On the other hand, they'd destroyed the Death Star, saving hundreds
of star systems from the same fate as Alderaan.
"That entire mission was a fiasco," she agreed. "We can't guarantee that this mission
won't be disastrous, but such is the case with anything we undertake as rebels."
He halted in the middle of the corridor and turned her to face him. He gripped her
shoulders gently, forcing her to meet his concerned gaze. "Promise me you'll come back safely."
She nodded. "To the best of my abilities."
He embraced her tightly. "That's all we can ask for."
* * *
"Anyone home?"
There was a crash and a loud expletive from the cockpit. Leia grinned and set her satchel
on the floor of the main hold.
"I'll take that as a yes, then?"
Han Solo emerged from the cockpit, rubbing his head. "Stang, Your Worship, don't you
ever knock?"
She shrugged. "If you want formalities, don't leave your door open."
He winced. "Very true. You ready to go?"
She grinned. "Punctuality is one of my virtues." She glanced towards the cockpit.
"Do you need help with anything?"
"No," he grumbled. "I was just rewiring the navcomputer."
"Is that safe?"
"Probably not," he said wryly, "but one of the boards had a short and I had to redirect
the circuit so we don't end up in the middle of the Maw."
"So can we be going?"
"As soon as we get the engines warmed up. It's a lot harder to counteract a cold start
when the rest of the planet is a giant snowball." He turned a grin on her. "The climate control
is finally working, so this should be the warmest place on base in about ten seconds."
"Not very hard to accomplish," she countered.
He gestured to the crew quarters. "You should get set up. It's a long ways to Ord
Mantell and if I know our contact, you'll need all the rest you can get."
* * *
Leia stumbled into the galley, yawning. Han looked up and grinned. "Stay right there.
I'm going to get a holorecorder for the noble purposes of blackmail."
"Shove a hydrospanner in it, Solo," she grumbled.
"There's that charm again."
"It's morning and I had a very restless night," she countered.
His grin disappeared. "More nightmares?"
She nodded, sinking onto the bench across from him. "They've gotten worse since Derra
IV."
His brow furrowed. "I'm sorry."
She offered a weary smile. "It's not your fault, despite what I'd like to think."
He stood and poured two cups of caf. "This should help with the grogginess."
She sipped at her mug and grimaced. "You've been taking cooking lessons from our Cor
Sec friends, haven't you?"
"Wedge Antilles, actually. His parents taught him to make it strong and bitter, with
the right consistency to substitute for engine lubricants if necessary."
She cradled the mug in her hands. "So that's what you use to keep this thing running."
"That and the legendary Solo luck."
She laughed softly. "Why am I not surprised?"
"No person can survive what I have without a bit of luck."
"Luke would say there is no luck, only the Force."
Han shook his head. "I have no trust in the intangible
He handed her a plate. "We'll be at Ord Mantell in about four hours. You should be
well-fed and fully alert by then. As your humble servant..."
"Humble," she snorted.
He turned a mock-hurt expression her. "As your humble servant, it's my job to make
sure that happens."
"How very reassuring."
He frowned. "Have I ever failed you?"
She rolled her eyes. "Let's see..."
"Not counting the Seteri mission."
"And Tysan VII."
He winced. "I'd nearly forgotten about that one. Though I must say that you got yourself
shot."
"Very true," she said, rubbing her arm. "But that was covering your back."
"I would have done the same for you."
Her mouth twitched. "I don't doubt it for one second. Despite what we'd all like to
think, you're a very unselfish person."
He bowed his head slightly. "Thank you for noticing."
She sipped her caf again, then set the mug on the table and went to work on the food.
"Why can't we always do this?"
"What?"
Leia tapped her fork against her lips thoughtfully. "Given our experiences since the
moment I stepped out of that cell on the Death Star, I would have never guessed that we could
actually have a civilized conversation."
"It must be the grogginess talking," he said with a grin.
She shook her head thoughtfully. "It's not that."
He sat across from her and mimicked her thoughtful scowl. "Maybe all people need in
this life are second chances. Luke and I gave you a second chance at life that day on the Death
Star; now you're giving me a second chance at being the kind of friend you deserve."
"I don't deserve anything," she said quietly. "Every person that has come into my life
has been an unwarranted blessing."
"Even me?"
She smiled slightly. "Especially you. I won't say that I'm glad for the circumstances
under which we met, but I'm glad that we did. You and Luke and even Chewbacca are the only
things that have kept me relatively sane."
"Glad to help," he said quietly.
She smiled and hefted her mug. "Then here's to second chances."
* * *
"Coming up on Ord Mantell," Han called. "You might want to make yourself presentable."
Leia placed her hands on her hips and scowled with royal indignance. "What's wrong
with the way I look now?"
"Absolutely nothing," he admitted. "That's the problem. You don't look like someone
who would be hanging around a tapcaf waiting for her shipment to offload."
She threw him a wink. "I'm sure I could find something suitable."
He brought the Falcon in for a landing and arrived at the top of the ramp to find the
Princess of Alderaan looking quite unusual.
Intelligence had provided her with a midnight blue body stocking edged with red piping.
Over that, she wore knee-high boots, a utility belt, a holster, and a light flight jacket. Her
hair was pinned back from her temples, but fell in soft waves to her waist.
She plucked at a seam on the jacket, obviously self-conscious. "Think I'll fit in?"
"I'll say one thing for you. If we get sold out, the opposition will be too enamored
to do anything useful."
She blushed fiercely. "My father would kill me for going out dressed as this."
He offered an arm. "Your father would understand."
Leia linked her arm through his and they headed down the ramp. "How far is the tapcafe?"
"It's in the spaceport about 6 bays southeast of here."
"That's a relief," she said quietly. "These boots are killing me."
He snorted and led her out of the docking bay. "Let me make the initial contact, since
I know him. I'll break his spirit, then toss him to you to finish off."
She smiled in spite of herself. "You have a stunning grasp of diplomatic relations,"
she said wryly.
"That's another thing. Try to keep your vocabulary under six syllables. Not all of
my friends are as brilliant as I am."
She laughed. "I'll try."
"You'll like this one," he promised. "He's an Alderaanian."
She turned a startled look on him. "You're kidding."
He grinned. "Not all smugglers are Corellian scum. You may even be able to work that
to our advantage."
"Hopefully," she agreed. "We're under a tight budget as it is."
The tapcafe, a seedy establishment under the name of Sleight of Hand, was dimly lit
and overcrowded. The perfect place to hide a meeting between insurgents...
Or a spy.
"Keep a sharp eye out," she advised Han quietly, keeping an easy smile on her face.
"Don't I always," he countered.
"Something to drink?"
Leia looked up to see a Twi'lek server waiting impatiently. "Flameout, light on the
phosphorescent agent."
"Corellian whiskey," Han ordered.
The server disappeared and Han moved over, drawing her under his arm. "Where did you
learn such abominable drinking habits?"
She smiled. "You don't make friends in the Star Fighter Command without picking up
a taste for the odd things in life. The Flameout's a favorite of the Black Deaths." She shrugged.
"At least it's not lum."
He stiffened suddenly. "See our contact?"
He responded by kissing her passionately, forcefully. Startled, she pushed against
his chest, but he dug his fingernails into her bicep and she relaxed into the kiss. Finally,
he pulled her away and clasped her to him.
"We've got trouble," he said into her hair.
"Imperials?"
"Worse," he muttered. "Bounty hunter. We can only hope that he isn't after either one
of us."
She glanced around. "In a place like this, it could be anyone."
"Nevertheless, if he recognizes either one of us, it could mean disaster. We've both
got death marks on our heads."
She sucked in her breath. "Perhaps we should move this conversation elsewhere."
"If we can live until Kharten gets here." He pulled back slightly. "Go. About four
bays to the west is an abandoned docking bay. Number 197. Wait for us there."
"I'm not leaving you here."
He shook his head. "It's safer this way. Take the long route to shake any pursuit."
She leaned in to kiss him. "Don't you dare get yourself killed," she said quietly.
"Not until I get paid," he countered. "See you soon."
* * *
"Long time no see, Solo."
Han turned to see Set Kharten slide into a chair across from him. "Don't get too comfortable,"
he countered quietly. "We're moving this party elsewhere."
Kharten's eyes narrowed. "Bounty hunter?"
Han nodded. "Our veteran negotiator is waiting at Bay 197."
The server finally returned with the drinks. "Anything for you, sir?"
Kharten glanced at the Flameout. "Our friend was called away; I'll just have her drink."
The Twi'lek let out an exasperated sigh at the lost profit. "Yes, sir."
Han knocked back the shot of whiskey and grimaced. "Not the best quality, but the
hired help certainly makes up for it."
Kharten downed the Flameout and tossed a sampling of local currency into the center
of the table. "Shall we be going?"
They stood and made their way to the exit. Han could see no pursuit, but bounty hunters
were notoriously skilled at melting into shadows. They kept up a steady stream of idle conversation,
wending their way towards 197.
The door was, as expected, unlocked. Han drew his blaster for good measure and stepped
into the darkened bay.
"She should be here."
He flicked the light on to find Leia lying crumpled in an alarming pool of blood. Han
rushed to her side and gently inspected her. She was unconscious due to a fairly deep gash
at the back of her skull. She had been beaten, but there were no blaster wounds, thankfully,
and her vitals were strong.
"I have a very bad feeling about this," Han commented.
"Who did this to her? There's no one here."
"Don't be so sure of that, Solo."
From the recesses of the bay, a bounty hunter in Mandalorian armor stepped. Boba Fett.
"I couldn't have her interfering in business," he said coldly, "and I'm sure Lord Vader
would probably be very interested in recapturing her."
"Over my dead body," Han growled.
"That's the idea," Fett countered. "You went too far with the Hutt and now I am authorized
to deliver a corpse to him."
"Deliver your own."
Han drew his blaster and fired at the unprotected neck area in one swift movement.
Fett lunged to the side, the shot ricocheting harmlessly off of his armor. His blaster rifle
came up and he squeezed of a double burst. Han caught one in the arm, but he rolled, coming
up into a crouch to fire once more at the bounty hunter. The shot hit only armor, but it distracted
him enough for Kharten to get a stun shot off. The Mandalorian collapsed.
"Nice shot," Han gritted, glancing at the crusted flesh of his upper arm.
"You're lucky he didn't get better aim," Kharten countered. "I think we should see
to your friend."
Han removed his jacket painfully and used his vibroblade to cut it into strips. He
used these to bandage her head as best as he could. He then lifted her battered form into his
arms gently.
The movement caused her to stir. She blinked against the light and raised a hand to
her forehead. "Where's the Mandalorian?"
"Stunned."
Kharten held out his arms. "I don't think you should aggravate that wound further,
Solo."
Leia's eyes snapped open. "What wound," she gasped.
"Just a minor arm wound," he assured her, passing her to Kharten. "Not as bad as it
could have been."
She glanced at Kharten warily. "You're our contact?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
She grimaced. "Let me down. Carrying me through the spaceport would attract too much
attention."
Kharten set her down and she leaned heavily against Han, favoring her right leg. Upon
further inspection, the knee was severely dislocated. She eyed Kharten's hooded overcloak.
"I'll need that to conceal my face and head."
Kharten swept it off and fastened it about her. She pulled the hood up, effectively
concealing her features. Han could see her biting her lip. "We have to put the joint back
into place."
"It'll be painful," Han said quietly.
"Can't be worse than it already is."
He helped her sit and Kharten supported her from the back. Thankful that he couldn't
see her face, Han wrenched the knee back into place. She strangled back a scream and sagged
against Kharten.
"I'm sorry."
She shook her head vaguely. "Help me up. We should get out of here before anyone else
takes an interest in us."
Han nodded and helped her to stand. Her hood fell back and he could see that her pale
cheeks were awash with tears, her face drawn. She caught his eye, then looked away and replaced
the hood.
"I don't know about you, Kharten, but I'm sure Han here can impersonate a drunken stagger
fairly well. We'll have to keep up the appearance of three revelers returning to their ship
after a night of too much hospitality."
Kharten smiled slightly. "I never thought I'd see a logical mind associated with Solo."
"We'll hold the negotiations on the *Falcon,*" Han interjected. "Ready?"
"As ever."
They each took an arm, draping them over their shoulders. Leia hobbled forward and they
left the docking bay, staggering as much as possible without causing further discomfort.
"They're watching us," Han murmured.
"Not surprising," Leia countered.
Abruptly, she broke into song, the words slurred but intelligible. Kharten joined in,
off-key but just as enthusiastic. Han laughed loudly, cursing at a few of the on-lookers in
several languages.
"I'm never letting you live this down," he commented to Leia.
"Come on, pal," she slurred loudly with more than a little disdain. "Where's your sense
of fun?"
Kharten broke into another refrain of the Alderaanian drinking song. "Let's rejoice,
therefore, while we're still young. Let's rejoice, therefore, while we're still young..."
"After a joyful youth and after a terrible old age, the ground will hold us," Leia finished.
Han couldn't help laughing. He steered her into the *Falcon's* docking bay and palmed
the door shut. Leia promptly collapsed into Kharten's arms and he carried her up the ramp into
the ship.
"Put her in my cabin," Han called.
He found the *Falcon's* medkit and managed to clean and bandage his own wound before
heading back to his cabin.
Kharten was laughing easily. "I haven't heard that song since my last night on Alderaan
four years ago."
Leia rubbed her temples. "I'm not particularly proud that I know it."
"Where did you learn it?"
She smiled wistfully. "My father, as a matter of fact. I didn't know it was a drinking
song until much later. He taught it to me as a reminder to be human once in a while."
"A wise lesson," Han commented, crossing to her side.
"One I should remember more often," she countered. "Now, on to the matter of the armaments."
Kharten snorted. "Doesn't she ever stop to rest?"
Han grinned. "Not when there's a war to fight."
"The list you sent us was quite impressive."
"I have access to quite a range of supplies," Kharten said.
She nodded painfully. "One of our specialists drew up estimated cost values."
She removed the datacards from her pocket and handed the top one to Kharten. He pulled
up the file and scanned through. "Your specialist is well-informed."
She nodded and indicated the second datacard. He inserted it into the datapad and began
scanning through.
"We are prepared to give you, at most, seventy percent of the estimated value, given
their condition."
"I'm prepared to accept forty percent of the estimated value and no transport charges."
Leia caught her breath. "You're kidding," she said softly.
"All right, thirty-five."
She shook her head. "That's not what you deserve. "
He squeezed her hand. "Your Highness, surely you haven't forgotten your father's favorite
adage."
She frowned slightly. "'Alderaan is only as eternal as the compassion of its inhabitants?'"
He nodded. "I would honor your father's memory by being much more compassionate, but
it would drive me out of business."
She buried her face in her hands, then steepled her fingers and pressed them to her
lips.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He pulled up another file and made some quick calculations. "That's my final offer."
Leia looked over the figures. "Most satisfactory," she said softly. "We'll have the
money transferred to any line you wish."
He typed in a credit access number. "Only for a Princess of Alderaan."
