Motives

"Yes, General Solo. She's yours." President Orakzai

Chapter 6

The Millennium Falcon (5 ABY)

"Chewie, put all power to the shields!" Han yelled as he struggled to coax his ship out of the tail spin Leia's shot had put them in.

Chewbacca growled and howled in return.

"I know! I know! She took out the main guns. She must've-" But then Han stopped. He didn't have any explanation for why she had done what she had done.

What would possess Leia to shoot at them? His mind began to race through the scenario. She had had them at dead rights. If her shot was deliberate, which he was sure that it was, then she had intentionally taken out his guns instead of just damaging their shields or crippling their engines. Why? She wanted them out of the fight, but more than that…

"Turn us around," Han said, looking out of the viewport and onto the vast stage of the battle.

A questioning hoot came from his copilot.

"We've gotta get outta here. Without main guns we're sitting out here like Calamarian Carp in a barrel."

Chewbacca barked and pointed in the opposite direction.

"We're not going to Home One," Han replied. "I don't think Leia shot at us as a way to tell us to come back home."

There was a low, whining noise that came from Chewbacca, it was tentative and sad.

"I'll have to figure it out later, buddy," Han answered. "Right now let's just head back to The Interceptor." And then he mumbled, almost to himself, "I have a feeling the Corellians are somehow at the bottom of this."

The Millennium Falcon limped back to the Corellian Flagship, The Interceptor. Han piloted his old freighter in muted silence. It might as well have been Han that Leia had fired that shot at, Han the man and not his ship because it was Han that felt damaged and concussed. He couldn't fathom what might have motivated her to do such a thing. Suddenly he began to dissect all of their recent interactions and conversations. She had known something back when she had sent him to join the Corellians and he kicked himself for not pressing her on it. But whatever it was…whatever it could be, what could possibly justify this behavior? She had shot at his ship!

He clenched his teeth together and fumed. There was nothing that could soothe his hurt and anger, no scenario that justified the means for this end. He felt that somehow she had chosen the Alliance over him, a long, deeply buried fear that scrambled happily up to the surface to slap him in the face. The thought confused and infuriated him. Why? What possible difference could all of this have made? What could she have gotten out of shooting his ship?

None of it made sense. He just knew that he must be missing some key part of the equation, some detail that would suddenly make it all become clear. Someone had gotten to Leia, somehow and they had forced her to behave in the way that she had. He curled his fingers around the control yoke of the Falcon until his knuckles turned white. He took a deep breath. The closer his ship got to The Interceptor, the more he began to turn his anger outward away from Leia and toward everyone else. It was much easier that way. But it was hollow charade. Deep in his heart the blame lied squarely on one person alone, he just couldn't bring himself to openly admit it.

The Corellian Flagship: The Interceptor (5 ABY)

Han and Chewbacca set the ship down in the large hangar bay. Unlike just a few hours ago when they had left it, the place was now quiet and nearly empty. Han sat staring out into that emptiness as he tried to get his thoughts in order.

Chewbacca moaned plaintively.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Han replied.

The Wookiee got up from his chair and placed his paw on Han's shoulder. Han did not acknowledge the gesture. The contact, the strong, silent weightiness of the contact was causing raw emotions to bubble up to the surface unbidden. Chewie removed his paw, respecting Han's silence as he turned and left the cockpit, heading out to assess the damage. Han kept his eyes trained straight ahead. He was still trying to assess his own damage and for the first time in a long time, the well-being of his ship was not at the forefront of his mind. He tried to give Leia every benefit of every doubt but nothing, no scenario he could think of could explain away or excuse her actions. His anger was slowly turning into an unbearable hurt. Everything, the tentative future he had dared to dream about was now imploding before his eyes. A princess and a guy like him. How could he have been such a fool? He shook his head.

Across the tarmac a man was exiting a turbolift and heading towards the Falcon. Han stood, moving with the slow deliberateness of a dream. He looked down at the his empty pilot's chair as if it would never seem the same to him again. For most of his adult life he had sat at that chair and flew, sometimes away from everything but lately he had been flying towards something, something he had barely dared to let himself believe he could ever deserve. And here he was discovering that it all had been too good to be true. He reached down to tap his blaster in its holster, confirming that at least it was still there. And then he turned and headed for the exit.

Han stood at the bottom of the entrance ramp of the Falcon and waited as the stranger approached. He appeared severely out-of-place on the naval ship. He was not military; at least he wasn't dressed in a uniform and there was a slightly feminine look about him. Chewbacca was already taking the cover off the main battery, or what Leia had left of the cover of the main battery, and the man made a giant semicircle around the front mandible of the ship, giving the working Wookiee a very wide berth.

"General Solo," the man said cheerily, holding his hand out from several paces away. "My name is Gharris Stanton, personal assistant to the President of the Associated Corellian Systems and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Han shook the man's hand as he eyed him warily. "Uh-huh," he replied.

"We were in the war room and apprised of your current situation. I've been sent here to tell you that you've been allocated whatever resources necessary to repair your ship. No restrictions. We stand to serve."

"Uh-huh," Han said again. "What's the catch?"

The man looked genuinely shocked. "I don't know what you mean."

"No one gives anything away for nothing," Han replied and the truth of the words in light of recent circumstances stung him deep. "What does the Associated Systems of Corellia want in return for their generosity?"

"In return for our generosity? Well, oh my, that would totally contradict the use of the word, now wouldn't it? No, no, no. It is my understanding that we merely wish to repay the famous General Solo and his trusty ship, The Millennium Falcon for returning home to aid Corellia in its finest hour."

"Were you asleep up there in that war room, Stanton? It hardly looked like mine or Corellia's finest hour out there."

"Oh," Stanton replied, blushing. "But the tides have certainly turned, General Solo. You probably don't realize but Coruscant is all but ours."

This information was enough to pique Han's interest beyond just wanting to get rid of this man and go back to rumanating about Leia. "What?"

Han's now sudden interest in the man's words made Stanton blush again. "Oh, well, of course, you might not know, but shortly after your, ah, attack the Corellians reconfirmed their alliance to the Rebels and joined the fight against the remaining Imperials."

"Shortly after my attack?" Han repeated. This had to be more than a coincidence. But it still left nothing clear. How could Leia shooting at him have brokered a deal with the Corellians? What would each party have gotten out of that? "And now you're here to tell me I can fix my ship all free of charge," Han asked.

"Why, yes, as I said-"

"Shut up," Han cut the man off as he bit down on his thumbnail. His brain spun with possible scenarios. Could the Corellians be behind all of this? Han looked down at Stanton. "And then what?"

"And then what, what, General Solo?"

"So, I fix up my ship and I can fly off wherever I please? No strings attached?"

"Well, yes, though we don't have all the supplies necessary to completely restore the Millennium Falcon here on the Interceptor. The, uh...," Stanton stopped and looked the old ship over for a moment as if searching for the correct descriptive word. "Classic freighter variety that she is, well, she's not at all exactly what you would call standard military. So we would have to escort you home...to Corellia. You see?"

Han dropped his hand down. "No, but I'm beginning to, I think." Was this some sort of propaganda campaign? Why else would they want the Falcon to show up on Corellia? Or were they trying to lure him there to arrest him? He certainly had no shortage of warrants back on his home turf. Han looked down at the man standing in front of him, Stanton looked nervous as he patiently awaited Han's reply. "No, I think I'll pass, thank you," Han said, shaking his head. "Tell the president I'm not interested."

"Not interested? Oh my," Stanton replied, clearly flustered. "I don't think you fully understood the offer."

"And I don't think you fully understand Basic. I said, no. I even added thank you."

"Oh, well, this is surprising," Stanton said. "President Orakzai, , uh…he felt most assured that you would cooperate."

Orakzai was a name from deep in Han's past. He had been the Admiral in charge of the Kashyyyk operation when Han had defected. He had also been Han's girlfriend's father, although as far as Han knew, Orakzai never knew about the relationship. He must be looking to make an example out of Han, the man never did like him. "Is that it?" Han said, running his fingers through his hair. "Old Orakzai came forward with some trumped up charges of desertion and treason and thinks I'm gonna go in quietly because he had the Alliance shoot at me?" He couldn't believe that Leia had sold him out for so small a price, especially after everything she had done to help him out of that mess with Jabba. There still had to be more to it than all of this.

"I think I can honestly say that President Orakzai has no plans on arresting you."

In spite of everything, Han couldn't help himself but laugh. "You think you can honestly say?"

"Well, you have to understand, I'm not always debriefed fully on the finer details of my assignments."

"It sounds like you're talking from bitter experience there, Stanton."

The man shrugged. "You have no idea."

"I'll tell you what," Han replied. "Because I'm sorta taking a liking to you. I'll forget this conversation ever happened and let you walk away from here without having to go through my Wookiee to do it."

Stanton turned around excitedly looking for Chewbacca, his eyes wide and terrified. "Please, Captain Solo," he begged.

"General."

"General Solo," Stanton corrected. "As I said, I am not aware of the details. I'm only here to see President Orakzai's wishes carried out."

"Well, I hope you're carrying a really big blaster under that ugly jacket of yours or I'm afraid you're gonna be disappointed. You see, I've got pressing matters elsewhere."

Gherris Stanton fumbled for and produced a small communicator out of his jacket pocket, looking severely wounded by Han's derogatory comment concerning his attire, enough so that he appeared to have forgotten about his fear of Wookiees. "Perhaps I should check and see if the President is able to meet with you now. He might be better able to explain."

Han folded his arms across his chest. "Perhaps."

Han was led into a large room with a gigantic viewport. There was a large man gazing out of the window, his back to Han. On the other side of the transparisteel several small fighters were entering and exiting hyperspace. Bright blips against the dark expanse of space. The man did not turn around at the sound of Han entering the room, nor did he react as Han was left there alone as the door slid shut behind him. Han paused a few seconds and then took a few steps toward the man before he stopped and waited.

"General Solo," the man said. "Please, come join me."

Han recognized the voice of his old Admiral, Orakzai. It was like meeting an old school teacher again, it made Han feel years younger and like he was about to get into trouble. He took the last few steps forward to stand beside the older man and joined him in looking out at the expansive view.

"You're witnessing the end of an era, Solo," Orakzai said. "Today we brought this war to an end. And in a way that left Corellia in the best position possible."

Han bristled. He wondered just what the Alliance had given away in exchange for the help from the Corellians. "Nothing like showing up late to the party and demanding the best seats in the house."

The President did not seemed fazed by Han's comment and he calmly replied, "The Alliance shouldn't have thrown a party when they couldn't afford to pay the bill. The truth is, they couldn't seal the deal without us and all we did was made sure we were sufficiently compensated."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself to help you sleep at night," Han replied. "It's no business of mine."

"You're right. And I didn't bring you here to talk business anyway. I understand you are reticent to return to Corellia."

"Not quite the way I'd describe my feelings on the matter, but okay, yeah, call me reticent. If that helps."

"Did you know that I won my election as President with barely a single vote cast against me?"

"No, I didn't. I was a little busy back then."

The President turned his gaze back at Han. "People wanted change; the Empire was falling out of favor. I began to redirect our troops, redeploy our soldiers. I saw the writing on the wall and I distanced myself from the Emperor…at least publicly."

Han shook his head. "You're a piece of work."

"You of all people should know that not everything is black and white, good and evil, right and wrong. I couldn't just walk away from the Imperials. And what then? Suffer the fate of Taris? Or, better yet, Alderaan? No one wants to make the unpopular decisions. No one really wants to know what goes on behind closed doors, but everyone wants to second guess the outcomes. Hindsight," the President seethed. "It's a politician's greatest enemy."

"So what is it?" Han asked. "You trying to get re-elected? Quit trying to sell me and just tell me what it is you're after and what you think you have on me that's gonna make one hell of difference."

Orakzai turned back toward the viewport. "Yes, I'm up for re-election and I want you to go back to Corellia. A rebellious hero returned," he said, dragging his hand across the air as if his words were on a billboard. "You'll be the face of my new campaign. The proof I need to separate me from the Imperials once and for all. It's not all politics, Solo. I truly do want to embrace this opportunity to climb from beneath the Imperials' reign."

Han clenched his jaw. He wondered if Orakzai was the one that had gotten to Leia. He wondered what he had told her to make her do what she had done. He clenched his fists. "Okay, you've told me what you want. Now tell me why I care."

The president dropped his gaze down to the control panel in front of them. "Did I mention to you that I have a granddaughter, General Solo?"

"No," Han replied impatiently, not understanding the inappropriate turn in the conversation. "Congratulations."

"She's…oh," he looked up and directly at Han's face. "About fourteen years old now."

Han remained silent but a natural reflex made him swallow hard. Fourteen years. For some odd reason Han's entire mind was suddenly swept blank, a cool wave washing over him.

"I think it's about time you met her," Orakzai continued. "Seeing that she's waited her whole life to meet you, or…so it would seem."

Han looked at the president, unable to define the emotions stirring up inside of him. He couldn't fathom what the man was saying. His brain had seemingly stopped working. He couldn't force himself to absorb what this man's words might be alluding to. Was he trying to say-

"Yes, General Solo," Orakzai said, interrupting Han's thoughts. "She's yours."