A/N: Thanks again to everyone that has reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. Special shout-outs to Nanobot5770, Shadir, As Mad As One Can Get, and Admiral Mitth'rawn'uruodo for the lovely reviews. I can only hope that people find the humor in this story, even as it trends a touch darker as befitting ESB. Enjoy!

Note: Most of the dialogue between Han and Leia came from the 1980 novelization of Empire Strikes Back by George Lucas.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Mary owns Mary. Everything else is owned by everyone else. This is purely for fun. Please do not sue.

"Well, how was I supposed to know it was the wrong tool," I bitched, glaring down at the tool bag slung across my shoulder Tarzan-style. In it where a bunch of long slender things that looked like screwdrivers with different bendy bits where the flat or the "X" blade should have been. "All this crap looks alike to me."

Chewie growled something that sounded suspiciously like he was calling me a tool bag for not knowing the difference between a hydropsanner and a hair dryer. Which I didn't, at least not in this galaxy. And who the hell designs a hair dryer to look like the ugly love child of a microphone and an iPod anyway? I wasn't certain if I should sing into it or try to download the latest Lady Gaga song. Oh, walking around with wet hair on Hoth was pretty much grounds for a full psyche eval. Just in case you were wondering.

Then again, so was showering with real water when there was a perfectly good vibe shower next to you. I hated vibe showers and as long as I could get hot water to dunk my body into, I was going to take advantage of it. If I had to live in a Converse-free galaxy, then the least I could do was have a hot water shower. Some standards I just wasn't willing to give up. The rest of the putzes in my Hell away from Home could suck it.

"Chewbacca says that the lift alternator requires the use of a hydroencapsulator to complete the upgrade," Threepio translated dutifully, which still didn't make the requested tool leap up from the bag and dance a jig to get my attention. "Only then can he continue with the welding portion of the repairs."

I reached both hands into the bag, and pulled out ten different tools. All of which looked alike. "Okay, prissy. You tell me—which one of these almost identical thingies is the thingie in question that Thing 1," I jerked my head upwards to towards Chewie. "Needs to use to fix Thing 2."

"I hardly believe that the use of such names is conducive to completing the repairs Captain Solo requested by the proper—" He tried to sniff irritably. Probably at my calling him Prissy. But that action was cut short when he jumped as the muffled roar from Chewie echoed through the hull of the ship. I had no idea what the walking fur-ball said. Whatever it was, it had his gold-plated finger snapping up quickly to tap Tool Number Seven. "That one, Princess Aurora."

"Thanks. Next time, just point, will ya? Listening to long-winded explanations make me violent. I think they do the same thing to Chewie. Speaking of… Hey, fluffy! Incoming!"

I winged the tool straight up into the air, watching as it ascended towards the hatch in the side of the Falcon. A paw (mostly) the size of my torso reached out and snatched it out of the air. Beside me, Rido the astromech beeped out something in binary that sounded like a snickering laugh. Threepio shot the little red and black astromech a look that would have been a withering glare if, you know, he had a facial structure that could actually move. Rido, or more commonly known as R1D0 (I called him Rido because his designation looked like a hacker name written in l337 speak), cheerfully ignored the not-glare from the other droid.

"What did he say?" I asked.

"He is wondering, rather inappropriately I must say, when the wookie is going to tear your arms out of their sockets for calling him 'Fluffy.'"

"And let me guess, the little dude wants odds on the betting pool for that fight, right?"

"As I said, Princess Aurora, it is highly inappropriate."

I reached down a hand, patting Rido affectionately on the top of his dome. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, short-stack. And the answer is never. Chewie and I have an understanding. It's why I'm here slowing him down when he could do this work a lot faster if I wasn't trying to 'help.' You should have been around me this morning, Rido. Man, the things I said would have had you laughing for days."

I didn't need Threepio's translation to know that Rido slumped a little when he realized that not only was impending violence missing from the area around him, but that he had also missed a verbal confrontation between me and Leia—again! Sadly, they were a pretty common occurance these days. So far she'd resisted every one of my attempts to root out the real Leia from beneath Lord Hater's screwy brain blocking.

With a rather fussy if not completely indignant squawk, Rido turned on his proverbial heel and rolled back into the mild panic that served as the main hangar of the base. Probably searching for someone else to provoke.

"That unit is in need of a full memory core replacement," Threepio sniffed. "I do not understand why you tolerate his company."

"So Rido is a 'he' then?"

"Why yes, Princess Aurora, he most certainly is."

"Stop calling me that, and I like him just the way he is. Don't wipe my Astromech or I'll personally wipe you. We clear?"

Threepio looked slightly shaken at that. Most likely because my version of a core wipe involved me, the droid in question, and a sledge hammer.

"Of course, Princess Aurora. Master Luke left explicit instructions that I was to obey Princess Leia while he was away. I can assume that he meant I would obey you as well, Your Highness."

I tried not to shudder at all those 'P' words he was throwing about. "And you wonder why I prefer his company. He listens to me and doesn't call me Princess."

"I doubt very much you would like what he does call you, Your Highness."

"You'd be surprised, goldenrod," I said, watching Rido vanish into the crowd.

Rido was the most unappreciated astromech in the entire base. He was rude, loud, sadistic, snarky, and used to be an Imperial droid before his ship was captured during a supply raid. One lucky shot—or unlucky if you listen to him tell the story—had hit a panel near his storage compartment, releasing an ion arc that had shut him down hard. When he'd come to, he was wearing a restraining bolt and being hauled to the nearest tech for reprogramming. Yet much like I had said about my own reprogramming, the joke was on them. The Imp-dick that had created Rido's personality must have been having a very bad day. Like, one moron away from completely losing it, kind of bad day. He poured all his hate and will to dominate into that one little guy, hard wiring it in so deeply that even the most intense mind-wipes couldn't remove his core personality.

So while Rido had no memory of serving the Empire aside from his initial capture, he was still Sauron Incarnate for the droid world. I swore that I saw X-wings shudder and try to jerk away when he rolled past them, terrified at the thought of interfacing with Rido the Wicked. Computers went dark, hiding inside their central processors from the boogey-mech that haunted their cybernetic dreams.

I couldn't help but love the little guy for it. He was the only one that was in a perminant bad mood like me. Since arriving here on Hoth, he'd become the Hobbies to my Calvin, the Robin to my Batman, the Double to my Trouble.

And speaking of trouble… It was currently heading towards us, wrapped in leather and fur and smelling like wet dog. Tautauns all smelled like wet dog to me. Don't know why, they just did.

"Head's up, Chewie," I whispered, knowing full well he'd be able to hear me. Wookie hearing was damn near perfect. "Your boss is back."

Chewie stuck his head out of the hatch like a meerkat, the large black welders mask making him look slightly like an anthropomorphic Vader. I wisely kept that one to myself. See, all that studying at Swamp U had paid off. Master Yoda would have been so proud.

Chewie, however, had no such compunctions. He roared at the approaching pile of cloth and fur that bore Han's face, waving the welding tool back and forth like he was either trying to land a plane or perform an interpretive dance.

"Cold isn't the word for it, Chewie," Han growled right back. "I'll take a good fight any day over all this hiding and freezing. How are you coming with those lifters?"

Whatever Chewie said next had Han looking slightly wounded and more than a little upset. "All right already, don't lose your temper. I'll go report and then I'll give you a hand. As soon as those lifters are fixed, we're out of here."

I snorted. "Yeah, right."

Probably not the best thing in the world to have said. Han rounded on me, planting his hands on his hips. "You got something to say, Your Unholy Worship?"

"Uh, yeah. And I already said it, thanks. In case you weren't listening, I'll repeat it. You aren't leaving. Otherwise, you would have done so by now."

"I know you were busy taking a vacation on Dagobah and all while the rest of us were battling the Empire," Han snapped. "But in case you missed the update, we haven't had time to blast out of here. The Empire has been one step ahead of us the entire time and we can't figure out why."

I winced, unconsciously flicking a glance in the direction of the command center. In the direction of the traitor in their midst. Leia was still reporting to Vader, alright. It was one of the reasons I hadn't come out and said I wasn't really Princess Aurora Soresen, that I was really Mary Vasquez from a planet far away from this galaxy. No one would believe me, for one. There was enough evidence out there for anyone to research thanks to Hater and his bloody Imperial bloody Intelligence bloody Division. I'd look like a mental case in no time if I tried that.

The other reason being that if I denounced myself, I would also have to explain why. And that would in turn denounce Leia. If the Rebellion lost its one source of pride, it's beautiful jewel of a Princess, it would crumble from within. I knew that deep down in my heart. All those systems that had pledged itself to the Alliance solely on the charismatic words of Princess Leia Organa would withdraw its support. The Rebellion would die, and Hater would have won.

I was supposed to be finding a way to stop that.

Han's hand landed hard on my shoulder, startling me out of my dark reverie. "You know something, don't you," he said firmly, quietly. "You know what's going on with the Empire."

"I have suppositions," I corrected. "And trust me, if I was to say them out loud, it would do more harm than good. You have to trust me, Han. Right now we need to focus on what we can change. And I need your help to do that. I need you to stay, to help me with Leia. You know something is wrong with her."

"Aside from having a heart colder than this planet?" he snapped. "Yeah, I'd say something was wrong with her."

"Oh please, like you're pristinely clean, either, flyboy," I smirked. "We've all got skeletons in our closets."

"Some more than others," he retorted, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at me. "Some people's skeletons are alive and breathing and offering cash rewards for the return of their wayward lover."

He was referring to the bounty on my head set out by Grand Admiral Thrawn, wanting me back alive and unharmed. More to the point, he was referring to all those rumors across Imperial space that Thrawn was wicked pissed with Vader over my "capture" by the rebels. That he wanted his lover back with a vengeance. All of that was pure crap, of course, a story cooked up by Thrawn and Thrass in order to counter the one that Vader had created.

Again, it all spiraled back to the war of control going on behind the Imperial lines. Vader created the rumor that I was the love of Thrawn's life, complete with an evidence trail a mile long to back it up. This was to cast suspicion across Thrawn's impeccably perfect record, making him seem less the genius he was and more like every other shmoe out there in uniform, flexing his Imperial muscle just to get what he wanted.

Yet Thrawn was smarter than that. He had taken it a step further and perpetuated the rumor, going so far as to have a rather public display of affection with me right before the Death Star bit the big one. It had turned that portion of Vader's plan on its head, especially when Thrawn himself had orchestrated my "kidnapping" by capturing Wedge Antilles and a few other X-wing pilots, putting them under crappy guard, and knowing me well enough that I would seize the opportunity to help them escape. He'd even been kind enough to have a shuttle fueled and ready and just perfectly placed so we couldn't ignore it during our escape.

It was a brilliant political move, honestly. With me out there in Rebel hands, and he acting the part of the distraught Admiral placing his duty over his heart's desire, he was gaining more of a following than Vader could have possibly dreamed. Last count, according to limited Alliance Intelligence, had more and more ships flocking to Thrawn's banner than before.

And all the while, the bounty on my head continued to increase in size, proving that he would stop at nothing to reclaim the love of his life. Or more to the point, the love of all that knowledge packed into my head about how things would play out in this universe. Please, the man didn't love me anymore than I loved him. We actually used the other "L" word for each other. To quote Elphaba and Galinda from Wicked:

Loathing. Pure unadulterated loathing.

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the side of the Falcon. Against a portion of the hull that still sported a great deal of carbon scoring from a direct turbolazer hit. "So, you never did tell me how that trip to Ord Mantell turned out for you. Oh, wait—you never got to land, did you. Something about a certain Mandalorian nearly taking your ship alive, right? I won't say his name aloud, but I hear his initials are Boba Fett."

The look in his eyes could have melted all of Hoth. So could have whatever came out of his mouth next, if there wasn't the utter laughter pouring from the Falcon in the form of Wookie guffaws. The Wookie in question popped his head out of a completely different hatch than before, and growled out something I couldn't quite catch. Whatever it was, it had Han flushing slightly, and probably wanting to whip out a padded mallet for a game of Whack-a-Wookie. When his eyes turned back in my direction, they weren't so angry anymore.

"Do I want to know what he said?" I dared ask.

"Depends," he replied, smirking slightly. "Do you want to be referred to as the sulking child crying because she threw her favorite toy over the side of the walkway, or the child crying because she wants what other people have?"

I threw a rather nasty glare of my own at the section of the Falcon I thought Chewie was in. "What are you, Supernanny?" I said, slapping the side of the ship. Hoping it would reverberate back to him. "When did you get the right to nurse-maid me?"

Chewie huffed out something that was a cross between a laugh and an actual sentence. I turned to Han expectantly.

"He says that you need to learn Shriwook. I'm not your walking translator."

"Bullocks. What did he really say?"

"That he earned the right to nursemaid you about eighty years before you were born."

"Stupid long-lived walking carpets," I pouted, knowing he was right.

Han and I were both acting like spoiled brats. But could you blame us? We were at a serious crossroads here. Both facing an ever-increasing bounty. Both not wanting to be here anymore. And both trapped by the love we felt for the same woman. His being romantic, and I really enjoying the part about being Leia's sister, even if it was fake. Let's not forget the monkey made of guilt pounding on my back for putting Leia in this situation to begin with.

"Stay," I said at the same time he said "Come with us."

"I can't," I sighed. "I'd make you even more of a target for hunters, number one. And number two, Leia needs me. She needs us both. So stay."

"That woman doesn't know what she needs."

"But you do," I said, for once not being sarcastic at all. "You know her better than you think."

For a moment, a sheer perfect moment, I thought I had gotten through to him. He was my key, my way of cracking through the Darth Darling personality that Vader had shoved into Leia's head. Because lord knows I had tried everything else! Without him, without that strong love that needed to blossom between them, I wasn't certain I would be able to save her. Nothing short of a Yoda-vention would at that point. Yoda may have had the Force as his ally, but Han had sheer stubborn determination. I wasn't certain which one was the more powerful of the two.

Han shook his head and my heart sank. "No," he said at last. "No, I need to go for the same reason you won't go with me. If I don't pay off Jabba, I'm a dead man. And no amount of ratholes like this is going to protect me forever. Jabba doesn't care about Empires or Rebels. He cares about his profit margin. And that won't go away, no matter which side ends up on top of this conflict. I won't have her watch me go down in flames," he said quietly, as if to himself, his eyes going hard again. "And I won't take her down with me."

Oh son of a… he was going to be all noble and self-sacrificing and junk. Turn away from the love of his life in order to protect her, when doing that was the exact opposite of what he needed to do. Lord save me from well-intentioned lovers. Why couldn't every romance be like mine and Praji's, where you could call each other a dumbass when you deserved it!

Because Han was being super, incredibly dumb right now.

"Wait!" I said, watching him trudge off towards the Command Center, trying to free myself from the tool bag.

"Wait!" Threepio called after me, trailing behind like the golden retriever he was. "Your Highness, wait! You are no longer permitted to enter the command center. Princess Leia…"

The rest of that was drown out as I lost my robotic babysitter in the crowd, running after Han.

Oh, this wasn't going to be good.

I thought that as I stared down the two guards stationed out front of the over glorified cave hole that was sectioned off for command. It didn't even have a door. Nothing but ice for walls and a roof. Which never really stuck me as the brightest of ideas. Let's take a room made of ice and fill it with computers guaranteed to heat up the place enough to melt the walls. And while we were at it, let's just nail a bunch of electrical conduit onto the ice walls, too. With metal nails. You know, for good measure.

Morons.

I stood in the opening, my way barred by two guys that I tried to tell myself were just doing their jobs. The rising tide of fear and panic in me wouldn't listen to that, though. No, it wanted to manifest its own set of Force powers and make like Vader with the whole choke-and-throw routine. Han just couldn't leave now. He couldn't! How in the world was I supposed to fix Leia if he left?!

"General, there isn't a hint of life in the area," Han was saying to Rieekan. "But all the perimeter markings are set, so you'll know if anyone comes calling."

Rieekan nodded. "Has Commander Antilles reported in yet?"

"He's checking out a meteorite that hit near him. He'll be in soon."

I rolled my eyes at that. If he was coming back at all, he would have radioed in by now. But that was part of the argument that got me banned from the command center. I pretty much had a meltdown on Rieekan when nothing but static filled the comm when he tried to call Wedge. As much as I tried to apologize, to blame calling him a blind idiot on my sore lack of caffeine, it wasn't enough. I was banned until I could get my notorious temper back under control. So much for Yoda's lessons in self control.

Apparently Chewie and Han were the only ones on this base that understood me, knew how to soothe my anger with sarcasm of their own. That was why Chewie was letting me help with repairs to the Falcon. It was either that or come and visit me in the brig. Again. Seriously, that happened way too often these days.

"General, I can't stay," Han said, earning a swift stare from Leia. "I think it's time for me to move on."

Rieekan sighed, as if knowing this was coming. "You're good in a fight, Solo. I hate to lose you."

"Thank you, General. But there's a price on my head. If I don't play off Jabba the Hutt, I'm a walking dead man."

"A death mark is not an easy thing to live with."

"Nor is living with my foot up your butt, dumbass!" I called out, causing both men to glance my direction. "No, not you this time, Rieekan. I'm referring to Captain Dumbass this time, who really is a dumbass if he thinks he can get away from me."

No surprise. Everyone ignored that. It was like I was talking to myself, only less satisfying. At least I agreed with me… most of the time.

Either my shout or Han's lack of give-two-craps got Leia's attention. The Queen of Heart(less)s strode over to her future husband, crossing her arms over her chest in a fairly decent imitation of Vader. The look in her eyes was all pure Leia, though. It was cold and distant and so full of buried hurt that my eyes ached with her unshed tears. How she managed to put so much passion into a single look was mind-boggling.

Somebody call the Oscars. She had this year's Most Dramatic Look in the bag.

Han wasn't immune to it, either. He swallowed convulsively, the pain in his eyes totally ruining the casual nonchalance of his smile. "I guess this is it, Your Highness."

And he stood there. Waiting. Like any sane, normal, wonderful person would. For her to say the two words that meant everything. Two tiny little words—

"That's right."

I would have face planted the ice wall beside the guard in frustration if he hadn't had caught my shoulders to stop me. "I'll take 'Crap Leia Shouldn't Have Said' for a thousand, Alex," I moaned, still holding out hope that somehow she would have said the two right words.

The 'don't go' or 'don't leave' or 'stay please' or, hell, I would have accepted 'I guess' at this point. Anything but "that's right." Because it wasn't right. It was pretty freaking far from right. Okay, it was right right according the Lucas-verse, but then again why was I caring about him right now when he had the brilliant idea to sell out to Disney. You know, the people who thought it was nifty keen to slap Mouse Ears on the Death Star for Star Wars Weekends? What was next, having the Death Star fart Tinker Belle glitter instead of a death ray?

And this so wasn't "right" when his walking away this time might be for good. There would be no epic love story to rock the galaxy, no epic Jedi squirts running around saving the universe, and no future epic love story between Jaina and Jagged Fel. And that would really piss me off. Because I loved me some Jaina/Jag story!

The hurt in Han's voice made my heart cry. "Well, don't get all mushy on me. So long, Princess."

If I hadn't been trying to imbed my visage into the ice wall, I would have remembered that Han stormed out of the command center and took an immediate right. Right in the direction I was standing, barreling into me and my guards as if attempting to pick up that elusive 7-10 split. And yes, for the record, I did go sprawling into the wall when he slammed into me.

"Han, watch it," Leia snapped, sparing a moment to help me pick my face out of the wall. "Rori, are you alright?"

"Yeah, peachy," I winced, feeling around my face. Nope, nothing broken, thank goodness. "If you don't mind, I was just—"

"—deciding to leave with me," Han cut in, gripping my arm and pulling me rather roughly out of Leia's arms. "It's better for everyone around you if those of us with prices on our heads are far away. Makes it easier for you to do the only thing you love—run the rebellion."

What the eff was this crap, a preview of Jerry Springer: The Rebellion Special? Part of me was expecting Rieekan to walk out of the Command Center next to tell Mon Mothma he was the father of her love child or something. Maybe Chewie pulling bouncer duty and carrying a clawing Leia off the stage screaming profanities. This so wasn't in the script!

Awkward did not even begin to cover this fight. "Maybe I should go—"

"No, stay," Han snapped, tugging me up beside him. "You've been with us since the beginning. Only fitting that you'd be here at the end."

"No, you should go, Rori. This is personal between me and Captain Solo," Leia snapped in turn, grabbing my other arm and hauling me across to her side. Going toe to toe with Han.

Who wasn't having any of that, apparently. Nor was he letting go of my arm.

"As her Unholy Worship reminded me," He said between his teeth. "The bounty hunter we ran into on Ord Mantell changed my mind."

"Does Luke know?"

I wondered if sticking my fingers in my ears and screeching a song at the top of my lungs would drive home the point that I didn't want to be here. Or force them to flee together to save what was left of their sanity. Maybe a Brittany Spears song would do it? Ooops I did it again… I screwed up the plot, got lost in the fic. Oh baby baby…

"He'll know when he gets back. If he ever gets back, or even cares." Han countered. "Don't give me that look. Every day more bounty hunters are searching for me and Rori. I'm going to pay off Jabba before he sends any more of his remotes, hunters , killers, and who knows what else. I've got to get this price off my head while I still have a head. Rori—"

"Leave me out of this!"

"—will have better luck with me. The Empire isn't searching for me right now. They're all over you guys."

Either something in that got to the real Leia, or she was a better actress than I gave her credit for. She looked truly pained. "But we need you," Leia said softly.

"We?"

"Yes."

"What about you?"

"Me?" she blinked at that, confused. "I don't know what you mean."

And the award for the Dumbest Thing Ever To Say goes to...

Han smirked, shaking his head. "No, you probably don't."

And started to storm away. Which didn't work out well for me, given that he had a death grip on one of my arms and Leia had her nails dug into the other. The result of that was the worst conga line in creation. With no one laughing and everyone looking ridiculous. Just more so than usual in a conga line.

"And what precisely am I supposed to know," Leia seethed, gaining her own death grip on my arm to keep up with him.

Oh, just want I always wanted to be—a human rope.

"You want me to stay because of the way you feel about me."

"Well, yes, you are a great help to us. You are a natural leader—"

"No," han cut her off, thankfully (for my arms) coming to a complete stop and rounding on her. "That's not it. Come on. Ohhh come on!"

And then it sank in, the realization that he knew that she liked him. Liked him more than the casual sex they'd been having since Teardrop. Or, if you listen to her side of it, the casual sex they should have been having since Teardrop, however she'd been too busy to do anything other than sleep in her bed. No wonder Han was so pissy these days. Could you blame the man? Well, sure, you could. But would you?

"You're imagining things," Leia sputtered imperially.

"Am I? I think you were afraid I was going to leave without giving you a goodbye kiss."

"I'd just as soon kiss a wookie."

"I can arrange that. Believe me, you could use a good kiss. You've been so busy giving orders, you've forgotten what it's like to be kissed. If you'd have let got for a moment, I could have helped you. But it's too late now, sweetheart. Your big opportunity is flying out of here."

She actually snarled in disgust. "I think I can survive."

"Good luck!"

"You don't even care if the—"

"Spare me! Don't tell me about the rebellion again," He all but yelled, grabbing my arm and starting the Tug-of-Mary all over again. "It's all you think about. You're as cold as this planet."

Leia tugged back. "And you think you're the one to apply some heat?"

"Uh, guys, I'm starting to lose some feeling in my limbs here. Could you not try to rip me half—"

"STAY OUT OF THIS, RORI!" they both yelled at me in unison. Neither letting go of my arms.

"Sure, I would have," Han continued, indifferently. "If I were interested anymore. But I don't think it'd be much fun. We'll meet again. Maybe by then you'll have warmed up a little."

"You have all the breeding of a bantha," she wrinkled her nose. "But not as much class. Enjoy your trip, hot shot. Good luck getting clearance to leave with my sister on board. It's not going to happen. You aren't going to take anything I love from me, Han Solo."

"Well, considering the only thing you love is what you see in the mirror, I think I can handle that!"

She didn't respond, just continued to stride down the hallway back to the Command Center. As if she hadn't told the love of her life to go screw. Han stared after her a long moment, shaking his head in disgust. With himself or her, I couldn't tell anymore.

"C'mon," he said, dragging me down the hallway with him. "We've got a helluva lot of work ahead of us if we're going to get out of here soon. And the sooner the better. I hate this place more and more."

Han may have had many problems in this galaxy (Mandalorians, life-debt-obsessed-Wookies, a giant slug wanting to nail his face to the wall over a bad smuggling debt, mind-wonkied princesses stealing his heart, and probably more unpaid parking and speeding tickets than all of New York combined, just to name a few) , but speed wasn't one of them. The man was only slightly taller than I was, but you couldn't tell by the ground gobbling strides he took. I slid behind him more than followed, as if we were a big sled team o' failure riding the we're-gonna-dies throughout the base.

"Woah, there, flyboy," I interjected, wobbling on my feet. "What if I said I don't want to go with you?"

"You'd be an idiot to stay. This rebellion is going to go belly-up and you know it. The Empire is going to win. They've got us out-classed, out-gunned, and out-maneuvered at every turn. Cut and run, Princess. The Empire isn't going to look for you in the places I've got in mind."

"And what could possibly possess you to keep me around?" I countered. "I can't shoot to save my life—or yours—I can't fly, I can barely navigate. Chewie just proved I can't fix anything, and I have a mouth on me to ruin the best of smuggler deals. What can I possibly do to earn my keep?"

"If I can't save her, I'll save you," he said flatly. "Besides, you've proven you can read people fairly well."

"If you're referring to saving Nova from you, think again, pal. That was a one-time deal. And you can't save me from someone like Grand Admir—"

And then it clicked.

"Insurance," I breathed, nearly jerking his arm out of the socket this time when I dug in my heels. "That's what this is about. You know the Empire is going to win and you know you can't avoid them forever. But you're gambling on the fact that Thrawn will win the war for control, and that Thrawn won't shoot first if he thinks I'm with you. That's why you're taking me."

He hunched his shoulders in a wince. "That's part of it," He muttered, shifting his grip to my wrist and tugging me back into motion. "A very small part. I also made a promise to the kid that I'd see you safe. That's one that I can at least keep. Hey, Goldenrod," he called, catching sight of Threepio. "Go make sure her Unholy Worship is packed up. She's leaving with me on the Falcon tonight, one way or the other. Anything not on board gets left behind. Move it."