Heartfelt thanks to everyone who's reading and following this story. Also, many thanks to those of you who have reviewed it. And thanks yet again to my wonderful betas jublke and StatsGrandma 57. I couldn't do it without your help.
Supply Run
Chapter Six
Han pulled the speeder into a narrow thruway behind the financial complex and cut the engine. The vehicle floated gently on its repulsors, swaying only a little as Han turned to face the princess seated behind him.
"Here's what we're going to do, your Worship," Han began.
"Why are we stopped here?" Leia demanded.
"We need to discuss our entrance strategy. And our exit strategy." The Corellian shifted, causing the vehicle to dip again as he draped his arm over the back of the seat. "It's probably best if I go in first, check to make sure it's safe—"
Leia leaned forward, her smaller form not causing the least bit of sway on the repulsors. "We're going to walk in the front door; I'll go first, you'll walk behind me. We'll go directly to Master Nongim's office. I'll give him the appropriate information; he'll get the money. Then, hopefully, we'll get back to the ship without incident and we can leave this pestilent planet." The princess rattled out her instructions at a rate just below lightspeed; her tone was brittle, and it brooked no argument.
"Listen, your Worshipfulness," Han began, his temper flaring. It cooled almost immediately when he saw the haunted look in Leia's dark eyes. There was anguish lurking just behind their hardness, along with large dose of uncertainty—something he could only recall seeing in her face once before—on Yavin 4, just after the destruction of the Death Star, when she thought no one was looking.
"Princess," he began again in a normal voice, "I know this is hard for you."
"The only thing that's making this hard is you, Captain," Leia responded hotly. "If you would just do what I told you to do, we could get this over with," she spat at him.
Han bit back his harsh retort, pressing his lips firmly together. The princess was hiding her pain behind an angry mask, but he knew it was there—so real he could almost touch it.
"Leia," was all he said as he watched her.
She seemed to shrink under his intent gaze.
"Okay, I hate this! Are you happy?" Leia's voice quavered as she ran a hand over the heavy fabric of her gown. "We copied this dress from a holo of my mother. It was one of her favorites. Mother loved to dress up; I don't." She took a deep breath and hurried on before Han could say anything. "I can remember when my father set up these accounts. He said he wanted to make sure that if something happened to him, that the money would still be there for the Rebellion." Leia blinked back tears. "I laughed and told him not to be so melodramatic!"
"You were just a kid then," Han reminded her. You're still a kid, he said to himself."You couldn't have seen what was going to happen. Nobody could have."
Leia continued as if she hadn't heard him. Maybe she hadn't. "And now I'm dressed like my dead mother, going to get the money my dead father set aside for a rebellion we're losing!"
Han had known this would hurt her—he'd known that when he'd talked with Rieekan—he just hadn't realized how much. And he hadn't known then how much her pain would bother him.
"Hey, it's okay," he said, knowing that it wasn't. "We'll just go in, get the credits, and get out of there as quick as we can." Han grimaced as he realized this was exactly what the princess had said to him a few minutes before. "I just want to make sure that no one is in there looking for you," he said. "That wouldn't do the Rebellion any good," he tacked on quickly.
Nothing but silence came from the back of the speeder. Finally, Leia gave a sad little smile.
"Thank you, Han."
"For what?" The Corellian looked at her.
"Just…thank you."
####
Luke sat perfectly still on the cold duracrete floor. His eyes were closed; his breathing was slow and easy. He let the Force flow through him. At least he hoped he was letting the Force flow through him. It occurred to him that if he were really one with the Force, his tailbone probably wouldn't hurt as much as it did right now!
Shifting his weight, the young man opened his eyes. His Bothan guard was leaning against one of the generators. His blaster was held loosely in his hands, making it seem as if he really wasn't on his guard, but Luke had spent enough time with Han to not underestimate his captor's watchfulness. Just to see what would happen, Luke moved as if he were about to rise. Sure enough, before he could even get his feet underneath him, the blaster was once again aimed at his midsection. Cautiously, he returned to his original position.
"I'm just trying to get comfortable," he explained.
The Bothan said nothing, merely indicating with a quick movement of the blaster that the boy should remain where he was.
Luke nodded assent with what he hoped was a disarming smile.
Even though this was only what he'd expected, he felt disgusted. Instead of helping the mission, he was complicating it. Would there ever be a time when he was something more than the Tatooine farm-boy—or just the kid—as Han insisted on calling him? He'd been with the Alliance for almost three years and what had he accomplished? Nothing! Leia—well everyone, actually—was still calling on him to be back-up for Han. Han didn't even belong to the Alliance!
Luke paused his mental tantrum and breathed out a wry laugh. The Bothan quickly lifted his blaster at the sound, but Luke merely waved his hand in surrender. His brain, or maybe it was just his ego, he told himself, was running away with all the self-direction of a spooked bantha herd. Of course he'd done plenty of things for the Rebellion. He was an excellent X-wing pilot and the leader of Rogue Squadron. He'd helped Leia on plenty of missions; he especially remembered the few Han hadn't been on. His uncertain smile grew wide and proud as he reminded himself that it was he who'd destroyed the Death Star. It was his expert piloting skills, and use of the Force, that had done the job there. Luke had barely needed Han's last minute assistance, he told himself, blithely ignoring the fact that without that timely assistance, Luke most likely would have been just another grease spot on the surface of the Death Star.
Well, he would use the Force again, instead of waiting meekly for Han, Leia, and Chewbacca to come and rescue him.
Luke closed his eyes and cleared his mind; reaching out with the Force, expanding his senses and feeling—
Nothing! All Luke felt at the moment was foolish. Who was he trying to kid? He had neither the training nor the experience to use the Force in that way. Worse, the Force didn't come with instructions, and Ben Kenobi didn't exactly pop-in whenever Luke needed him. With a resigned sigh, he leaned his head back against the cold wall, and narrowed his eyes to slits.
It was at that exact moment that he saw it, as clearly as if he'd been holding it in his hand. His lightsaber, which he'd lost in the struggle with the Bothan, had rolled under one of the generators and lay there, unnoticed. Luke couldn't tear his eyes away from the weapon, though it appeared his guard remained unaware and uninterested. Now, all he had to do was figure out how to get to it.
####
Han followed three steps behind the Princess as they entered the Center for Intergalactic Commerce. He couldn't help but admire her sure steps and proud carriage as Leia strode regally toward the bank of lifts on the far side of the complex's main building. Sadly, her queenly accoutrements hid the other parts of her that Han enjoyed watching. That was just as well, he reminded himself. He wasn't here for sightseeing of any kind; he was here to make sure they got what they came for—and got out with their lives.
Posing as Leia's bodyguard gave Han the perfect cover for his vigilance. His eyes darted from a group of stalls selling kaf, sweets, and the like, on one side; to clusters of soberly clad beings checking financial reports projected on screens lining the opposite wall. Above the main floor, terraces and balconies soared upward to the roof of the building many stories above them. There were so many different places from which to stage an ambush, Han didn't know where to watch first.
Leia stopped at a desk near the banks of turbolifts.
"Good day," she politely addressed the security droid behind the desk. Its heavy armor plating contrasted with the ornate desk. "I have business with Master Nongim."
"Certainly, Madam," the droid intoned haughtily. "Your credentials, please." Han paused his surveillance to look at the severe bronze face. He wouldn't have believed it possible, but this unit sounded like a recent graduate from an Imperial City finishing school; he was even snootier than Threepio! A grin slid across his features at the thought, and was quickly vanquished. He thought he saw a matching smile on the princess's face, but it vanished so fast he couldn't be sure.
Leia handed the droid a small, square data card. Neither human breathed as the card was inserted into a reader. Han's hand hovered within easy reach of his blaster while they waited for the droid to read through the data displayed on a small, recessed screen. His fingers flexed and released convulsively—it was taking too long!
"Everything is in order, your Highness," the droid finally intoned, with a brief nod of its ugly, plug-like head. "You are cleared to join Master Nongim in his office." Red photoreceptors turned to Han. "This being?" The droid let the question dangle.
Han's fingers flexed again and dipped lower toward the butt of his weapon, only to be halted by the cool touch of Leia's fingers.
"…is my assistant," the princess finished. Her steady gaze dripped with royal hauteur. Han found himself wishing he could have seen her in action on the floor of the Imperial Senate. He'd never realized how effective a tool snobbery could be. The droid looked away first, Han noted with satisfaction. His hand relaxed.
"Certainly, your Highness. Let me just summon an escort droid." Its stubby fingers moved to depress a toggle in the desk.
"We can find our own way," Leia interjected quickly; she'd seen the quick shake of Han's head. "I am most comfortable with my own escort." She graced the droid with another steely glare.
"As you wish, Princess," the droid acquiesced. "Please use turbolift 3-jenth.
Leia turned and sailed across the crowded floor in a swirl of elegant robes; Han trailing in her wake. He didn't catch up to her until they stood waiting for the lift.
"Well done, your Royalness," he said with a cocky, admiring smile.
"Don't call me that," Leia replied automatically, but her usual icy tone was gone.
####
"Use the Force, Luke. Let go, Luke!"
That was great advice, as far as it went. The problem was that it wasn't working. Luke had been trying for the last ten standard minutes to will his lightsaber to levitate to him—he'd even have been happy if it had rolled to him—but the weapon remained motionless, as stubbornly obdurate as Han could be. Luke's Bothan guard had actually asked him if he was feeling alright, informing the young man he had a funny look on his face.
Terrific!
Well, Luke had known that levitating via the Force had been a long shot—a very long shot. He just didn't have those skills, maybe he never would. He needed to use what skills he did possess to get his hands on that lightsaber.
When Luke had been in school on Tatooine, along with Biggs, Tank, Deak, and Windy, they had all successfully managed to feign illness in order to get out of classes. Admittedly, Luke hadn't been the best at it, Biggs had; and admittedly, they only had to fool the old K-TR80 educator droid, not a living being. But the Bothan already thought there might be something wrong with Luke, and he wasn't a human. It was worth a try; it was certainly better than sitting here on the cold floor.
Luke coughed loudly, burying his face in his hands. While he hacked, he poked a finger in each eye hard enough to bring tears streaming down his face. He pressed his thumbs against his face with enough force to bring a bright spot of color to each cheek. When he pulled his hands away from his face, the Bothan guard looked at him with undisguised dismay. Thanks for the tips, Biggs!
"I don't feel so good," Luke wheezed.
The guard made no move to come toward Luke. "Well, keep it to yourself, will you?"
How was he supposed to jump him and get the blaster away from him, Luke wondered frantically, if he wouldn't get near him?
"I think I'm going to be sick!"
With a convincing moan of agony, Luke began to lurch to his feet. He only made it part way up before the Bothan was directly in front of him. Leaning forward, the young man only half pretended to lose his balance. He crashed heavily into his captor, taking them both down to the floor and successfully ruining the Bothan's aim with the blaster. The bolt sizzled into the floor where Luke had been sitting.
By now, the Bothan thug realized he'd been played. With an angry snarl, he grabbed for his blaster, but Luke succeeded in knocking it out of the Bothan's reach. Of course, he'd knocked it out of his own reach, too. The angry guard hauled himself to his feet as Luke skittered across the floor away from him. Howling with rage, the guard flung himself around Luke's knees, knocking him face-first into the floor with a thud. Stars dancing in front of his eyes, Luke reached blindly for his lightsaber, stretching as far as he could. It was just beyond his grasping fingers…
Then it was in his hand. Use the Force, Luke! Apparently he had. In one swift motion, Luke thumbed the control, and with a snap-hiss, the blade ignited. With both hands he swung the blade in the direction of his attacker.
This time, the Bothan howled in agony. Luke blinked back the tears that were streaming down his face after its abrupt encounter with the duracrete floor. His stomach lurched when he saw the guard's arm several meters away from the rest of the guard's body.
Run, Luke!
He looked up and around at the sound of his mentor's voice. Thanks, Ben, Luke thought, but I figured that one out for myself. Tucking the guard's blaster into his belt, Luke shut down the lightsaber and ran out the door.
####
The door to Master Nongim's office slid shut behind them with a courteous yet emphatic thump. Han emitted a gusty sigh of relief.
"Well played, your Worship," Han said. He used the appellation without rancor, his voice filled with honest admiration. "Either Banker Nongim is a rebel sympathizer or he had no clue that you're at the top of the Empire's most wanted list." He grinned his approval.
The smile faded to uncertainty as he watched the princess's back. He wasn't positive, but he thought he saw the slight shoulders shudder underneath the heavy gown she wore.
"Leia?"
She turned to look at the smuggler, her eyes steady and her lips firm. And her face was as white and drawn as it had been the night after Luke had blown the Death Star, and she'd thought she was alone in Yavin 4's jungle to mourn her lost home and family. She'd held herself together that night by the sheer power of her will, and it appeared she was doing the same thing now.
"I've got what I came for," Leia said, her voice unnaturally harsh. She raised the bag containing a combination of credits and gems. She swallowed once and blinked rapidly. When she continued, her voice sounded almost normal again. "Let's just get back to the ship and get off this rock!" She turned back and began walking toward the lift.
His lips formed a slow, crooked smile. "You know, your Highness, I think you've been hanging around me too long. You're beginning to sound like me."
"The Maker preserve me!" Leia swore fervently, but some of the heaviness seemed to leave her footsteps.
Han checked to make sure they were alone in the corridor. He hurried to catch up with the princess. "Come on," he cajoled her. "You gotta admit, you like me!" After a moment's hesitation, he reached out and put an arm around Leia's shoulders.
"I tolerate you, Captain. Nothing more," she responded, but her tone reflected none of the irritation that the words did. Han noticed that she didn't try to shrug his arm away; she didn't even object to its placement!
What had Rieekan said to him, back in his office a few days ago? "I think you might be surprised at the result if you do make your move."
Han felt an unexpected wave of emotions flow through him—surprise and pleasure chief among them. Maybe, he thought, just maybe the general had been right.
