This took much, much, longer than I ever dreamed it would. However, finally, there is a new chapter. And, be assured, that I never leave a story incomplete. I hope you enjoy.

Supply Run

ChapterTen

Skidding to a stop at the Falcon's bulkhead hatch, Leia punched in the unlock code with frantic fingers. One look out the cockpit canopy had told the princess everything she needed to know about the source of the laser blasts, and the situation outside the ship in the docking bay.

They were in serious trouble.

The bounty-hunter droid, IG-88, had trapped Luke and Chewbacca behind the speeder-truck loaded with the generators bound for Echo Base. He had also succeeded in knocking Luke's lightsaber—which had proved a formidable weapon—out of his and hand across the tarmac.

And Han…

The sight of Han's crumpled, motionless form filled Leia's thoughts as she waited for the hatch to raise. That simple function seemed to be taking hours instead of seconds, giving the princess ample time to consider what had just happened.

What in the hells had he been thinking?

Only a fool would be stupid enough to blindly charge an IG-88 droid, and Han Solo was no fool. This particular droid was a bounty-hunter, though assassin might be a more appropriate term: one of five self-actualized droids manufactured. They were all malicious killers, banned even by the Empire. This particular killer was after Han.

Which still didn't explain what had possessed him to attack where he didn't stand a chance to win. Han was often reckless—wantonly so—but never when it meant obvious harm to himself. Leia shifted from foot to foot as the hatch seemed to inch upward. Han had seen her in the cockpit, Leia was certain of that—he had looked straight at her. She felt an angry flush surge up her face. He'd wanted her to stay inside the Falcon; the princess had realized that as soon as their eyes met. But that was no reason for the Corellian to behave with such brazen stupidity. Besides, he knew very well that she wasn't one to stay tucked safely away while others took the risks.

Leia lunged down the boarding ramp when the hatch finally reached the halfway point. It was only when her feet touched the rough surface of the landing pit, and sharp pain radiated upward, that she realized she'd never put her boots back on. Well, it was too late for that now. Ignoring the discomfort, the princess dashed around the starboard landing strut, taking cover behind the lowered freight lift. Her eyes quickly scanned the scene in front of her.

Luke and Chewie were crouched behind the laden speeder truck; every time one of them made a move, a carefully placed shot from IG-88's blaster kept them pinned where they were. Beyond them, in the middle of the bay, Han remained where he'd fallen—his arms and legs splayed at awkward, impossible angles that told Leia he wasn't trying to fool IG-88. No one would assume that painful position by choice. Her pulse pounded loudly in her ears as she stared at the Corellian. He hadn't moved, not a finger, not a hair. Leia had seen the shot hit his head, but it must have been a graze, she reasoned, anything more direct would have blasted half his face off. Her stomach heaved at that thought, and she swallowed down the sour taste of aven pie that had risen into her throat. Just an hour before, she and Han had been relaxed, happy, almost romantic. Now he might be dead.

No! Han wasn't dead. Leia didn't know how she knew, but as certainly as she knew her own name, she was sure of that fact—and that certainty cleared her head. She needed to get to him. Tightening her grip on her blaster, the princess considered her next move.

####

Chewie's howl of rage and anguish reverberated through the docking bay. Luke swore he saw a few of the coolant barrels quake from the sheer power of the Wookiee's roar. He could feel Chewie's need to get to his fallen friend, not through any sense of the Force, but through the desperation that vibrated from every nerve in Chewbacca's body. Luke suspected every being in the docking ring could feel it. Yet, somehow, the horror and despair Luke should be feeling at the sight of Han's injury—or quite possibly his friend's death—was inexplicably absent. Instead he felt oddly detached, aware of a cool calmness and steadiness within himself that he'd never experienced before.

The blond man scanned the docking bay. IG-88 had withdrawn into the shadows on the edges of the pit, the droid's odd finish keeping the light from reflecting off of it. Luke couldn't see it, but he knew the droid was out there. It was no longer firing; it was probably waiting for one of them to move out of the shelter of the speeder. Then, all it had to do was dash in and retrieve Han's unmoving body—after it killed Luke and Chewbacca. And Leia…

Luke was not going to let any of that happen.

"Chewie, don't go out there yet," Luke said in a low, firm voice, as he sensed the Wookiee's hands readying his bowcaster. "We won't help Han any by getting ourselves killed. I've got a plan." Obi-Wan had told him that the Force had a strong influence on the weak minded. Not for one moment would the young man have called the Wookiee weak-minded, but whether it was the Force, or just plain common sense, Chewie grudgingly accepted the suggestion and stayed where he was, though he still trembled with the need to get to his friend. He moaned a single, terse question to Luke.

"I don't know how I know," Luke answered honestly, "but, trust me, Han isn't dead."

Chewie's blue eyes first widened, then narrowed; his furry eyebrows crinkled in thought. Then he turned to the younger man and nodded once, telling Luke that he indeed trusted him.

Luke swallowed, then returned the nod. It was up to him now, and the Force.

All he had to do was get his lightsaber back. Luke could see it lying on the tarmac a few meters away, plainly visible to himself; he hoped the droid couldn't see it. He'd done this before—once before—earlier that day in the carnage of Marak's workshop. He would do it again. Clearing his mind, he shut his eyes and stretched out his hand.

Through the Force, he could see the lightsaber. He could see the hilt move feebly, like a newly hatched sand worm groping blindly for food. Luke refocused his efforts, picturing the weapon flying off the ground and into his hand. He could hear it, as the lightsaber scraped on the rough floor of the landing bay. He almost had it…

####

The first conscious thought that occurred to Han was that he was pretty sure he was still alive. This came as a surprise to him, albeit a pleasant one. Of course, it was always possible he was mistaken, but he was pretty sure that dead people wouldn't be aware of the bite of gravel digging into their cheeks and lips like he was, nor would they experience the fiery pain he was feeling from the wound in his temple. Of course, the only way he could be sure would be try and get up. Besides, lying there with his face in the dirt was really starting to irritate him. Painstakingly, Han pulled his out flung right arm back underneath his chest, and lifted his head a few centimeters off the tarmac. White hot pain seared through his skull, and flashing lights danced behind his closed eyelids. Maybe not such a good idea after all, Han thought, as the searing heat of a laser blast landed a bare centimeter from him—so close he swore he could smell singed hair—before he fell back into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

####

Leia felt a hitch in her throat, even as she adjusted her grip on her blaster. She stared at Han, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Had his hand moved, just a fraction? Yes! As she continued watching, she saw his right arm move in toward his body.

With a gusty whoosh, she expelled the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She'd known he wasn't dead; she'd known it. All at once Leia's knees went wobbly, and she grabbed for the edge of the freight lift. She inhaled deeply to steady herself; now was not the time to go soft. What is wrong with me anyway? Her eyes traveled over to Luke and Chewie. If she could get their attention, maybe they could create a big enough distraction that one of them—it would need to be Chewie, Leia realized—would be able to get Han out of the line of fire. Reaching down, she picked up a small stone, ready to toss it in their direction.

The ringing explosion from a laser blast sent the startled princess ducking back down behind the landing strut. She watched as Han's raised head, almost hidden by the smoke from the shot, fell back down to the ground. Her heart thudded while she waited for the smoke to clear. Once again, the Corellian was still as a corpse.

"Han!"

Before she even realized it, Leia had called out. They couldn't wait; they had to get Han out of there before IG-88 murdered him where he lay. With a quick, hopeful look toward her companions, she fired several shots in the direction of the droid before she ran straight toward Han.

####

"Han!" Leia's sharp cry echoed off the stone walls of the docking bay. The lightsaber fell still.

Luke's eyes flew open, his concentration broken, as Leia cried out. She came pelting around the starboard landing strut, intent on reaching the injured Corellian.

"Leia, no!" Luke called to her, reaching out for her arm as she scrambled by him. He almost caught her, but she twisted away from his grasp and out in front of the truck. Chewie added his own howled supplication to Luke's, but the princess was so focused on Han that she didn't appear to hear either of them. Turning her head, Leia's eyes met Luke's. Leia stay here! Luke willed at her. Instead, the princess fired two shots toward the droid's hiding place before darting out from behind the speeder truck and crossing the open tarmac.

Blast it! Luke moaned to himself.

####

She felt Luke's hand brush against her sleeve as she ran past the truck and out into the open, and she heard Chewie's howl for her to stop. They were probably both right, Leia thought, crouching down low as she ran, but there wasn't time for that now. Han had been a fool to rush out there by himself, and now she was equally a fool to run after him.

Red blaster bolts flared around her as she raced toward Han, but she continued on unscathed. Leia knew that this particular droid was too accurate to actually be missing her, therefore he wasn't trying to hit her. He was a bounty hunter, after all, and she was certain that Princess Leia Organa was worth more to the Empire alive, rather than dead. She didn't give much thought to what would happen to her if IG-88 actually caught her; right now she was just grateful for the droid's greed, if it gave her the chance to get Han out of there.

Time was once again playing tricks on her; seconds had inflated into hours. Finally she reached Han, and dropped down onto her knees next to him. With a gentle hand, she pulled the singed hair back from the wound on his temple. It looked awful, with red blistery skin, and a trickle of blood. It was indeed only a graze, but a bad one. It must hurt like the hells, and it had probably rattled around whatever the idiot used for brains, as well. Leia felt an unexpected smile quirk her lips. Han Solo—always acting first, thinking later. She ran her hand fondly down his cheek, part thank you, part—

Another blaster bolt raised a spray of dirt centimeters away from them. Her hand dropped down and she shook his shoulder sharply—he needed to wake up now.

"Come on, Flyboy!"

####

The Wookiee growled low in his throat; partly from anxiety, but mostly from frustration. It was bad enough that Han had run out into the middle of the docking bay, with no cover whatsoever, like a cub who didn't know any better; now the little princess was out there too. Leia could be as ferocious as a rancor—a quality Chewie greatly admired in her—but there was no way she could get Han out of there by herself. The basic laws of physics still applied.

IG-88 fired yet another shot that barely missed the couple huddled on the tarmac. Baring his teeth, Chewbacca fired at the droid still hidden in relative safety among the barrels of coolant. He missed, and IG-88 turned his blaster in the direction of the speeder-truck. Chewie pulled his head down with a snarl. He'd managed to draw the droid's shots away from Han and Leia, but that would work only as long as he managed to stay alive himself.

"Chewie," Luke whispered in his direction. "I never expected Leia would run out there like that."

Chewbacca resisted the urge to throw his hands up in the air and howl. He was astounded at how impossibly blind humans could be at times. The only thing that had surprised him about the current circumstances was how long it had taken Leia to get to Han. Couldn't Luke see that those two were completely besotted with one another? The whole situation was enough to make a being even as patient as a Wookiee lose his temper. If only they would all get around to admitting it to themselves—and especially to each other.

Well, there wasn't time for that now. Chewie stuck his head around the truck and fired again at the droid. This time, however, IG-88 fired another shot that just missed Han and Leia. Kriff! Something needed to be done, the Wookiee saw, and quickly. There was no time for the would-be Jedi to call on the Force again.

####

The next time Han came to, he wasn't as certain that he was alive as he'd been the last time. He was pretty sure real life—at least his real life—didn't include Leia's cool fingers brushing along his cheek. Eyes still closed, he turned his head into the caress. If he was dead, he figured he might as well enjoy it.

A blaster bolt zinged by; he could feel the heat on his cheek as it hit the duracrete next to his head. It sent a spattering of hot dust across his face and made his ears ring. His eyes flew open. Okay, not dead. IG-88 was playing with him—taunting him. Obviously the droid wanted to take him back to Jabba alive, otherwise Han knew he'd be dead by now. And Leia…

"Come on, Flyboy!"

Leia's face hovered just above his own, her dark eyes anxious. And maybe something more? It's probably the head injury, Solo, he reminded lines of her face seemed to waver a little; he was pretty sure that was the head injury too. Still, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and he wanted her to know it.

"Leia," he began. His voice sounded thin and raspy, not exactly the way he wanted to start. He tried to raise himself up, but Leia gently pushed him back down.

"Just take it easy for a minute," she told him. Her voice didn't sound too steady either. "You're going to have to be able to get up and run," she added in a firmer tone, as she sent a shot flying toward the edge of the docking bay.

The return shot flew by Leia, so close it would have hit her if she hadn't been bending toward him at just that moment. They had to get out of here, Han silently heart pounding with the effort, Han raised himself to a sitting position—and was immediately overcome by searing pain in his skull. His stomach churned with nausea. Closing his eyes and breathing in through his nose, he swallowed the sickness back down again.

The sounds of blaster fire: from Leia, from Chewbacca's bowcaster, and from whatever weapon that kriffing bounty-hunter droid was using, reminded Han what a tenuous position they were in. Leia was in deadly danger because of him. He shook his head, hoping the pain would help clear the fog that still swirled annoyingly through his brain. The next shot from IG-88, landing centimeters from his hand, had a better effect.

"Solo, give yourself up, or I'll kill your friends." IG-88 punctuated his demand with another near miss.

"You're going to kill 'em anyway," Han called back. "So why should I bother?" He'd hoped to sound strong and defiant, but his voice came out thin and weak to his own ears. Just kriffing terrific.

"It's you I want, Solo." A blaster shot hit the ground by the hand Leia was using to balance herself next to Han. She jerked the member back, tottering a little before regaining her balance. "I'll let them go," IG-88 continued, "if you just come along with me. You're worth more if I deliver you to Jabba alive. He'd like to play with you a little—before he executes you."

Han could envision a sneer on the droid's face; if droids could sneer, that is. "You'll let them all go?" he called out.

"Yes," was the response.

"Han, don't be an idiot," Leia hissed at him. "He doesn't mean it."

Han ignored her. "Even the princess?" he asked. Especially the princess.

A sigh was audible in the electronic voice. "Yes, even the princess. She's worth a lot, but you're worth more." The sneer returned. "Besides, all I have to do is tell the Empire where I saw her last. I'm sure Lord Vader will be able to find her. There's probably a finder's fee in it for me."

"Why, you…" Han began, his teeth bared in a fair imitation of his co-pilot. He struggled to haul himself to his feet, his efforts hampered by Leia's insistent tug on his arm. They both stood, Han swaying like a drunken Gammorean.

"Han, don't you dare give yourself up!" Leia threatened. "I—" Her voice cut off with a choking sound.

Adrenaline had cleared his head of all but a residual muzziness. Now Han turned away from the threat of imminent death at the blaster of IG-88 to look down at the princess. He'd heard something in that strangled-off syllable; or he'd thought he'd heard something. Or maybe he just hoped he'd heard something.

"You, what?" His hazel eyes met her dark brown ones. They held each other's stares for what felt like an eternity. Leia looked away first.

"The Alliance doesn't give in to terrorists," she said primly, not willing to meet his eyes.

"Uh, your Worship…"

Another blaster bolt from the assassin droid burnt the ground between them.

"Kiss the princess goodbye and come along, Solo."

Han focused on the small, pale, face so close to him. For a moment nothing—not IG-88, not the fiery throb of the injury to his head, nor the queasiness in his gut, claimed any of his attention. He was tempted to do as the droid had suggested, and kiss those enticingly parted lips. But he wouldn't give the bounty hunter the final satisfaction of being right about how he felt. Instead, he pulled his arm free of Leia's grasp and turned toward the droid.

He managed only one step before a barrage of blaster fire from behind the speeder-truck sent him diving to the tarmac, grabbing for his forgotten blaster instead.

####

Luke fingered his blaster, tightening his grip on the weapon in his sweaty palm. Next to him, Chewbacca scanned the far edge of the landing bay, narrowing his eyes as he kept watch on IG-88. The droid still remained entrenched behind barrels of coolant, but now, at least, they had a clue as to where it was lurking. Luke couldn't blame the Wookiee for taking over the rescue attempt—Luke hadn't even been able to get his lightsaber back, much less rescue anyone—no matter how much he'd wanted to. However, watching Han struggle to rise, and Leia struggling to protect him, while both were under the fire of the bounty hunter, Luke understood the necessity of following Chewie's lead.

The problem was that while Luke could feel the stirrings of the Force, he had only minimal control over its potential. He rubbed his free hand wearily across his face. No, if he were to be honest, he had absolutely no control over the Force. His mouth pulled downward. His performances earlier that day had been nothing but luck. If only he'd had a little more time with Ben Kenobi—more time to learn from him. But, as Uncle Owen had often said, if wishes were raindrops…

Chewbacca shifted toward the front of the speeder-truck, folding himself almost in half to keep out of sight, while Luke moved toward the rear. After a ten-count, Luke was supposed to lay down cover fire while Chewbacca went to aid Han and Leia. Luke wasn't at all sure that any of them would survive the attempt, but it was the only possible option they had. At least the Wookiee was big enough he could carry one, possibly both, of their stranded companions to the safety of the Falcon—unless he died in the attempt.

Luke sighted on the coolant barrels as sensed the tensing of Chewie's muscles. The Wookiee grunted as he began his countdown. Ten, nine—Lukeinhaled—eight, seven—.

Chewie froze as Han began negotiating with IG-88. He muttered an obscenity in Shyriiwook as he listened.

Han was going to turn himself in to save their lives, no wonder Chewie was swearing. Luke almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. Almost. Except that even though the Corellian had an ego the size of a small planet, Luke knew that he would never find a truer friend. And Luke wasn't going to let that friend go without a fight.

"Chewie, we can't just let Han—" he began. The Wookiee held up his hand and bared his teeth. Luke stopped.

Luke watched, dumbfounded, as Han and Leia stood in the middle of the docking bay, staring at one another. What were they doing?

As IG-88 took his shot at the couple, Chewie roared a war cry and pelted around from the front the truck, firing as fast as he could at the droid.

Luke fired as he ran around from behind. I guess we're going to go rescue Han and Leia now.

####

Leia was so focused on Han that at first she had no idea where the laser blasts were coming from. It was only as she flattened herself on the ground that she realized it was Luke and Chewie who were firing. The long awaited diversion had begun.

Out in the middle of the docking bay, there was no place for either herself or Han take cover; the only thing keeping them from being killed where they lay was the volume of fire being directed at the droid—even he couldn't successfully counter all the shots blazing toward him. Leia fired shot after shot, praying her blaster would stay charged. She aimed at IG-88, but never hit him. Han was firing as well, but half of his shots seemed to go wild. Leia knew he was an expert shot, but injured as he was, he wasn't good enough to bring down the droid.

A war whoop from Chewie sounded close behind her. She craned her neck around to see the Wookiee run in behind Han, grab him by the arm and yank him to his feet. He howled at her to get up and run as he half-guided, half-carried his injured friend toward the Falcon. That was a really good idea. She got to her feet in one awkward, hurried movement, wobbling a little. When a hand grabbed her arm, she aimed her blaster at its owner, pulling her finger away from the trigger only at the last second, when she realized the hand belonged to Luke Skywalker.

"Leia, we need to run!" he yelled in her ear. More good advice.

They moved as fast as they could, Leia ignoring the hard scrabble digging into her stocking feet. As they drew close to the speeder-truck, she saw that Chewie had shoved Han onto the freight lift, where the pilot clung dizzily onto a support rod. The Wookiee waved frantically at them to hurry. Luke paused long enough to scoop up his lost lightsaber, and caught the tail-end of a blaster bolt in his arm as he did so. He cried out in pain but kept running, shoving himself and Leia onto the lift. Chewie had already started it moving up into the ship.

As they rose into the forward cargo hold, Leia caught one last glimpse of IG-88 firing away. A cold fury gripped her. That one droid had done too much damage to people she cared about. She raised her blaster and took one final shot—aiming not at the droid, but at the green puddle of coolant that surrounded him. It ignited with a satisfying whoosh as the lift settled into the Falcon.