In his office on the Alliance flagship, General Carlist Rieekan stood in front of one of the windows, looking out into the black. Even after a long, tiring day, his posture was military perfect, the tilt of his head at just the right angle. From the back, he was the picture of a soldier – in control of himself. Ready for anything.
If anyone looked at his face, however, it would contradict the rest of him. Unshed tears pooled in his eyes. If he let it, his face would crumple into weeping, in sorrow for his old friend's daughter.
The report Princess Leia had written of her escape from Hoth and subsequent return to Home One was running on the screen of his data pad. She'd sent it last night, but knowing something of its contents by the lack of spirit in Leia's eyes, he hadn't the heart or the energy to read it then. So it was waiting for him this morning, like a hangover after a night of hard drinking. Something painful that could not be avoided, no matter how much one wanted to.
He'd already heard a little of what had happened on Bespin. The princess, ever the consummate professional, had not neglected her duties. Her report left nothing out - at the same time that it excluded much of importance.
Some of the details reminded Rieekan of adventure holo-vids he'd seen in the past. The part of the report covering their flight from Hoth to the day they'd escaped from the Imperial ships via space garbage – clever boy, that Han Solo – was technically written, but a man with a good imagination could find the story thrilling nonetheless. He had not been able to hold back a gasp, then a grin, at the ingenuity of Solo's flight through the asteroid field. Trained as a pilot, General Carlist Rieekan was a highly decorated flight leader. He had never attempted such a maneuver before. Never even thought of it. Would he even dare to try, given the choices Han had faced? It was daring and reckless, and impressive. Very impressive indeed. Han Solo had earned the respect of many of the pilots and soldiers when the rebellion was stationed on Echo Base, through his fighting and piloting skills, as well as natural leadership abilities. Not to mention his uncanny luck at Sabacc. When people heard of this exploit, the smuggler's reputation would only be enhanced.
And the space slug. Grotesque, and almost unbelievable. That was yet another story to expand the legend. He could almost see the giant mouth beginning to close, the enormous teeth waiting to crush the Falcon like a bug. But the crew had escaped by a hair's breadth.
Reading about what happened on Bespin, however, was no adrenaline junkie's high. It was tragedy. No one had died, but there was enough pain and hurt to last a lifetime. A tear escaped his eye as he thought of Lelila. How had she managed, being forced to watch Han's torture, having been through her own interrogation on the Death Star? Then watching as he was frozen, surrounded by stormtroopers and Darth Vader, with no one but Chewbacca to protect her? Trying to stop the bounty hunter, but they were too late. If not for the eleventh hour conscience of this Lando Calrissian fellow, Leia, Luke Skywalker, and the Wookie would most likely be dead now, tortured and killed by Vader. Seeing her exit the ship some days ago, he'd thanked the gods she was alive. But one couldn't say she was well.
Fools sometimes were promoted to the rank of general, or higher, but he was no idiot. He'd watched over Leia as closely as he could, in part out of concern over Alderaan, and partly to honor his late friend Bail Organa. He'd observed her interactions with the smuggler Solo on Yavin, and then on Hoth. Verbal sparring in public, some of the barbs they aimed at each other sharp and memorable. The entire base knew, how could they not? The aptly named Rogue Squadron had set up various bets on Hoth – when they would kiss, when they would actually say something nice to each other. When they would get together, in a manner of speaking. On a base with limited options, gossip about the Han Solo and the princess provided hours of entertainment.
It wasn't just fun and games, he thought, remembering the time he ran into Solo, the man's arms full of soup and blankets as he made his way to the quarters of a sick Princess Leia. Or the time the Falcon was a week late returning from a supply run, and Leia's words to Solo as he was unloading cargo, their sharpness an attempt to mask her worry.
There was simply no mistaking the two of them were in love with each other. He'd seen it like this before. At the time they first met, Carlist did not think Han Solo was an appropriate friend for a princess. Over time, the smuggler had shown the kind of man he truly was, had proven, at least to Carlist, how good he was for Leia. Han didn't put her on a pedestal. He didn't treat her like a fragile flower. He treated her like anyone else, never sparing her. She seemed more alive around Han, more passionate and real. For that, especially after Alderaan, Carlist silently thanked Han Solo, and verbally supported his association with the princess when others criticized it.
Forty days together on a space ship, with only a Wookie and a droid for company? There was only so long one could hide away. Carlist doubted that Leia had managed to avoid Han's company the entire time. Being stuck on the Falcon like that was almost the equivalent of locking the two of them in a supply closet, something he had secretly longed to do one day after hearing them arguing continually for half an hour.
Who knew what happened between them on that trip? The details weren't his business. It was clear to him, however, that Leia was deeply affected by what had happened. He wanted to talk to her, not as a superior, but as a friend and supporter. He would give her a couple days, and then ask her to see him. If she was going to involve herself in Han Solo's rescue, as he suspected she would, she would need his backing. He already knew he would fully support her in whatever she needed to do.
She needed a stiff drink. Mon Mothma, member and leader of Alliance High Command, former Imperial senator, was not normally one to imbibe. But after reading, and re-reading, and reading again Princess Leia's report of her experiences after fleeing Hoth, she needed something. Anything to calm her jittery nerves.
It wasn't the flight through the asteroid field that had her uncharacteristically ruffled. Although it must have been extremely frightening for Leia to watch, wondering if one of the enormous pieces of flying rock would smash that ship to smithereens.
And the space slug. They'd almost met their deaths there. Who in their right mind would land in the throat of such a creature? But apparently Han Solo didn't know at the time that what he was flying into could destroy them with one snap of its teeth. Someone was looking out for the crew that day, helping them fly out in the nick of time.
It was upsetting to read about the events in Bespin. Quite upsetting, actually. She'd never cared for Han Solo, an arrogant, low class smuggler who'd somehow managed to charm his way into Alliance resources, and into the heart of a princess. For as long as she'd known him, she wanted him gone, away from Leia. But torturing him? Freezing him in carbonite and turning him over to a bounty hunter? The Alliance didn't exist to copy the methods of the Empire. She'd never stoop as low as Vader and Palpatine had to treat another human being as they had Han.
The report exposed problems for her and for the Alliance. And they were all interlinked.
What would happen to Leia's reputation? The young woman had spent forty days on a ship with that man, with only a Wookie and a droid as chaperones. It could hardly be expected that Leia had stayed in her cabin the entire time. Everyone on Hoth knew about their interactions. Mon had always hated the bets the Rogue Squadron set up about the princess and the smuggler. It seemed there was a new one each week. She found it so degrading to hear the young pilots gossip about when they would kiss. Or gods forbid, when they would have sex. And it was infuriating to know that Rieekan and Madine, also part of High Command, did not share her views on the subject. In fact, they found the entire situation entertaining.
She'd never had any kind of conversation with Leia about Han Solo that actually went well. She'd never been able to convince the young princess that the smuggler was unsuitable as a casual friend, let alone a boyfriend of some sort. Carlist and Crix had always supported him, no matter what. And Leia was so very, very stubborn sometimes. The rescue from the Death Star had forged seemingly unbreakable bonds between the four of them - Commander Skywalker, the Wookie, Han Solo, and the princess. If only someone else had rescued Leia from the first Death Star, Mon thought. If only.
So in forty days, with no audience, anything could have happened. Clearly Leia was deeply affected by her experiences. But what were they? She did not know if she had the nerve to ask the princess about what had happened between her and Han Solo. Are you still a virgin? Are you, gods forbid, pregnant?
The report was nothing that needed to be kept confidential. Not for strategy and planning purposes. She knew how base gossip worked. The details she just read would somehow find their way through the fleet, they always did. And the princess would be talked of for weeks, people wondering and speculating on the unknown. She didn't want Leia to be seen as some cheap whore. Not by the Alliance. And certainly not by some of the planetary systems considering joining the Alliance.
Two offers to treat had come to her, neither of which she had shared with anyone else on High Command as yet. Two systems, with men and wealth and resources, starting to view the rebellion as a better option than the Empire. Considering what they might commit, and what they wanted in return. The last Princess of Alderaan's hand in marriage was something each system wanted, in return for their generous contributions.
There was no question in her mind the Alliance needed the money. If they defeated the new Death Star, they would have almost nothing left. And each system was pledging so much, it was easier to ignore the fact that Leia would be set in an arranged marriage - in cultures where women were often considered second class citizens. Where virginity and chastity and modesty were highly prized. If the leaders got a whiff of Leia's flight with Han Solo, Mon didn't know what would happen to these offers. She didn't know what would happen to the rebellion.
Sighing, she locked down her desk and data pad. She hoped she could could get some sleep tonight, it had been years since she'd had a decent night's rest. It was unlikely to happen. She was already dreading the conversations she must have with High Command, and with the princess.