Disclaimer: George Lucas God. Skywalker Child peasant. No contest.

The Long Way Home

Chapter 10: Back in the Saddle

Han had left Lando at the party, only after shoving the charmer into the hors d'oeuvre table. The Corellian smuggler has walked straight to the Falcon, where he had kicked consoles and punched screens until his toes and knuckles were bruised and bloody. Then, changing into his normal, comfortable clothes, Han Solo had gone out and gotten absolutely smashed.

At some point during his drunkenness, he had decided to take the first job offer which led him as far from the Core worlds as possible. When a female Twi'lek with soft brown eyes and tattooed purple lekku had begged him for transport back to Ryloth, he agreed. He'd also agreed to let her stay in the Falcon while he slept off his ale, and at some point she even reasoned with him that his bed was the safest place for her…so long as he was in it as well.

Now he was on Ryloth, watching as his passenger, along with several boxes of cargo, left across the hanger floor. The planet's air was gritty, an open vacuum droid in a windowless room. In many ways, it felt like Tatooine; the grime and the dirt caking into his clothing and skin without him even moving. Han decided to order some food and spend the night in his ship, in which he would be leaving promptly the next morning.

That was, of course, until the planetary police interrupted his sleep at 0230 hours, putting him in handcuffs and leading him off to the tiniest detention cell Han had ever been in. He was given no food, no water, and no indication as to what he had done wrong.

Typical.

"I have powerful friends!" Han called to no one in particular, hearing what he thought was a jailer whistling. "You're going to regret this."

"Yes, we know all about your friends, Captain Solo," said a disembodied voice.

Han looked around, finally pinpointing the source as a tiny speaker-box just outside the bars of his cell. The voice, though distorted, sounded female.

"Well then you know my being held here without reason isn't going to exactly enamor you to the new galactic government."

The voice chuckled. "Captain Solo, we also know that your ties with the new administration are…feeble, at best. Now please, silence yourself."

"But why am I here?" He suddenly flashed back to another time, when he was tortured to the point of unconsciousness, without as much as a question being asked. To think I wanted to make that man my father-in-law. He smiled at his relative good fortune.

"The cargo you transported contained over ten kilos of spice, Captain Solo. Spice not mined on Ryloth. We do not take having our economy illegally disrupted in a casual manner. You will be punished."

"I didn't…it's not my fault!"

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"You're lucky, Captain Solo; the judge has granted you a com call," the disembodied voice said, waking Han up from a fitful slumber. He had been dreaming about the night he rescued Chewbacca, and the following morning when he'd had his lieutenant's bars ripped off his uniform. The dream hurt more than the actual experience had—Leia was the one tearing off the bars.

Han rolled over and looked at the speaker box, yawning. "I don't have to pay for this call, do I?"

Another chuckle. "No, Captain Solo. But I would choose the recipient very carefully. Your trial is set to begin in a matter of days."

Han rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. His first instinct was to call Leia, but he was sure she'd rather see him rot in this hell then come to his rescue. Lando was a last resort, if Han agreed to pay for the dry cleaning bill and fuel to get here. Chewbacca…no, he wouldn't get Chewbacca involved in this. The Wookiee probably already had a wife and a pup on the way. Luke was a good kid, but he'd probably side with his sister on this, and who would blame him.

He had a thought. An off-chance, but it just might work.

"Yeah, all right, I know who I'm going to call," he told the ceiling. "So, how does this work? Are you actually going to show yourself? Let me out of here? Or do I have to dictate the message?"

An unseen door slid open somewhere beyond the bars. A dark-skinned woman Han almost remembered slipped into the room, hips wiggling with a mind of their own. On one finger, she dangled a pair of handcuffs.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I don't do kink," he quipped.

"For your own protection as well as my own," she answered, keying open his chamber door. Han didn't try to bolt, but offered his wrists to her. She put the cuffs on like a pro, lingering a finger on his wrist. A chill went up his spine. That was a feeling he remembered.

"Avongara?"

She grinned. "So you do remember me? Han, I'm flattered." She pointed towards the door. "Please, I'll allow you your com call now."

She led from behind, her small hand at the base of his spine. She took him down a long corridor, then into a room even smaller than his cell. His senses were tingling with anticipation, but it led to nothing. She sat him down at a console, pressed a button, and then stood back.

Han looked over his shoulder. "A little privacy, please?"

Giving a little frown, she walked out of the room, but left the door slightly open behind her. Han lifted his cuffed hands to the computer and typed in an extended destination.

The computer beeped for almost three minutes before someone finally answered. The woman on the other end, red hair shot through with white, looked like someone who had been in a deep sleep. She rubbed her eyes a few times before speaking.

"Captain Solo? Do you realize it is 0140 on Coruscant? This had better be important."

Han nodded. "I'm sorry, Mon Mothma but…well, I'm in a bit of a predicament. I know you don't have many people to spare but…" Quickly, Han regaled the Rebellion leader with his tale of woe, leaving out the part with Twi'lek in his bed. When he was done, he asked. "A little help?"

Mon Mothma visibly sighed. "Captain Solo, you put me in a most unusual position. I want to reprimand you for taking on cargo without knowing the contents, but I don't suppose that would do much good at this point." She sighed again. "If I do this for you…you're back on my payroll, Captain. I won't reinstate your military rank, but you're coming back to Coruscant."

"Mon Mothma, I…"

The older woman shrugged. "Or I leave you to rot in a Ryloth prison for the next sixty years." She almost smiled. "Your choice."

Han cast his eyes toward his bound hands. "Make sure they didn't do anything to my ship.