FIVE FINGER DISCOUNT
Chapter 11
"Where to now?" Leia asked as they departed Atzerri's orbit.
"Cularin," Han said tersely. They would be moving into heavily Imperial- patrolled space shortly, and he wanted to make the jump to lightspeed at the first possible opportunity. Han was in no mood for conversation and even in less of one for arguing.
"It'll take us a while to get to the Expansion Rim," Leia observed. "And," she added grimly, "it's an Imperial world, with a heavy garrison presence."
"Do you think I don't know that? But, it'll be the best place to get provisions, both for us and for the fleet," Han remarked, scowling as he punched the coordinates into the navicomputer. "And I've got a contact there. He'll help us out."
"Well, if he's as good a friend as Zovri, we ought to do well. Assuming we don't attract Imperial attention," Leia said softly.
"Well, that's the tricky part, isn't it?" Han said, wincing. "But it's pretty hard to avoid the Imps most anywhere we go."
"I guess that's why we're at war with them," Leia sighed in response. "How long till we get there?"
"About eleven hours. You should get some sleep, Princess," Han told her in a peremptory tone.
"I'll get some sleep. You may not believe it, but I do realize when I'm tired," she shot back.
"No. You don't," Han countered
Leia scowled at him, mostly out of habit. Of course she knew when she was tired, but sleep had a nasty habit of eluding her. Still, she'd managed nine hours the other night, and right now she was worn out from a very long day.
"I'll go to my quarters after we go to lightspeed," Leia relented.
"Yeah, I'll probably do the same," Han muttered. He'd moved into the hyper-alert state that he
employed while scanning for patrols and pirates. Nothing, not even Leia with her pretty dress and loose hair, could distract him at this point.
"Chewie, you want to split watch once we get to lightspeed?" he asked his copilot.
{You sleep, cub. You're getting too grouchy,} Chewie informed Han, his tone a warning one.
"I am NOT grouchy!" Han snapped back. "I'm trying to make sure we don't run into Imperials, pirates, or any other lowlife scum before we can get to lightspeed, and you're supposed to be doing the same!"
{I AM doing the same!} Chewie retorted, shaking his head and grumbling something uncomplimentary about human moodiness.
The fact was that Han really was irritable and exhausted. A day at Traders' Plaza had left him worn out. He hated the company of that many beings packed together, and being bumped all day by various species, weapons, and shopping containers was not his idea of a great time. Also, despite the fact that he'd played it very cool, going to Zovri's was always a little unnerving. Han had been grateful that Leia had been with him; it had given him a good excuse for opting out of sabacc. While Zovri served good drinks and only entertained serious players in his tavern, he also drank far too much, letting his paranoia and anger rise to the surface, and he was vocal about both. Han didn't blame him, but he really hated the endless ramblings that went on until Zovri either ran down or passed out, whichever came first. While Zovri did honest business, he wasn't the easiest person to get along with. Han had left that part out for Leia.
And kriffing Bossk, disrupting a great dinner, if the chef did say so himself. Han was going to be really furious if that dumb bastard had damaged his girl in any way.
Sleep might actually be welcome—if they could get to lightspeed without being noticed. So far, they hadn't been, but things had gone a bit south with the appearance of Bossk.
Gods, he hated that guy.
But what made him angriest was that he'd been interrupted while having a wonderful dinner with a beautiful woman in a purple dress. He could have looked at her in that dress forever…
That thought was cut short by the appearance of two TIE fighters. Han groaned with frustration; he was not in the mood. They were almost ready to make the jump, they just needed a little more distance.
"They're aiming for us!" Leia exclaimed, as she craned her neck to look out the cockpit canopy.
"I see 'em!" Han snarled back. "Chewie, fire on my orders!"
{They've gone under the ship,} Chewie pointed out. {I'm going to use the belly gun.}
"I want to get a clean hit," Han said coolly. "Go ahead and open fire; drive 'em out and around."
Chewie complied, and Han waited for the TIE fighters to reappear. The belly gun might possibly injure the fighters, but not obliterate them, which was Han's plan. Concussion missiles were good for that.
A shot hit the Falcon's port hull, knocking everyone about.
Helluva way to end what had been a pretty decent day, Han muttered to himself as he prepared the missiles to fire. He'd been relaxed and content at dinner; now the adrenaline was flowing madly. Adrenaline rushes could be fun, but not when you were being shot at.
One of the fighters came round the bow and moved into attack position.
"Now!" Han hissed to himself, aiming a missile at the nimble little fighter.
It missed.
"Kriff!" Han swore angrily. "I'll get you, bastard!"
Here we go again, Leia sighed to herself, feeling the tension flood through her body. She wanted to do something—anything—but she knew that this was not the moment to distract Han. He was in shoot-to-kill mode, and that was what he needed to be at the moment.
Another shot hit the hull, this time clobbering the small freighter with considerable force, knocking the crew around hard enough to put their recently consumed meal at risk. Apparently one fighter had remained on the starboard side, attempting to disable the Falcon while his partner attacked.
Han had had enough. Chewie, who'd been firing laser blasts, continued away, and this time, when Han shot out a missile, the TIE fighter dissolved into chunks of space debris.
"What about the other one?" Leia asked, trying not to display alarm in her voice.
"It doesn't matter; we're going to lightspeed. Chewie, punch it!" All three held their collective breath until the stars began streaming by in white streaks.
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"I hope that surviving TIE fighter has no idea where we're going," Leia said quietly as she sat down on the battered banquette in the lounge. Funny, it was starting to feel like a comfortable place to relax, at least as much as she could at the moment.
"Yeah, well, we could be going anywhere, for all they know. I feel a little sorry for the pilot; we escaped and he's going to get a serious chewing out, if not worse." Han said, pouring himself two fingers of Corellian brandy. "You want some?" he asked, holding out the bottle.
"After that, I wouldn't mind a little," Leia admitted. "I hate it when I'm dead tired and then I get hit with an adrenaline rush."
"No, that wasn't fun," Han agreed. He clinked glasses with Leia. "To clear skies the rest of the way."
"Clear skies," Leia responded, hoping to the gods that it would be that way.
The two drank in silence. Chewie was off assessing whatever damage had been done to the ship. If it was significant, Han knew that sleep wouldn't be happening anytime soon; he hoped it had been minor. TIE fighters were nimble, but they weren't the most powerful in a firefight. They could inflict serious injury on a ship if they got lucky, though, especially to a somewhat decrepit little freighter.
"I have to ask," Leia spoke after a few minutes of what had been comfortable quiet, "was Zovri responsible for the sixty- five X -wings you procured?"
"He was the man," Han confirmed. "Not that he's likely to be able to pull that off twice."
"Tell him thank you next time you're in contact with him," Leia told him simply.
"You don't thank Zovri. You say, here's your payment. He was in a good mood when you saw him," Han informed her. "Which he isn't always. He'll still do business, but you won't leave feeling good about it."
"I feel horrible for him, losing his family," Leia said quietly.
"He's not the only one, sweetheart," Han said, but in a tender way that seemed to add you lost yours, too.
"Everyone's lost something in this damned war," Leia sighed. "Friends, families- "
"Their minds," Han added, rolling his eyes. "By the way, Princess, Chewie wasn't the only one that got you something," he continued, as he reached into one of the small cupboards. He pulled out a large, dark chocolate bar. He shrugged as he told her, "I went into one of the sweet shops while you were in the ladies' fresher."
Leia's eyes lit up, which countered her chastising tone.
"You got chocolate and you were holding out on me?" she accused him, but she broke into laughter.
"Well, I'd planned to surprise you at dessert, but our dinner plans went a bit haywire," Han commented, handing it to her. "All yours."
Leia carefully opened the bar, which was substantial. "Oh my gods, extra dark, my favorite." Chocolate was a rare delicacy, the dark kind especially so, and not inexpensive. Han's thoughtfulness wasn't lost on the princess. "Do you want some?" she asked him, offering him the bar.
"Nah, don't have much of a sweet tooth. Didn't have much opportunity for treats growing up," Han said.
Leia's heart tightened a little, thinking about Han's childhood, which had been as different from hers as was possible. "Alderaan is known for its sweets and pastries," was all she said, popping a square into her mouth. "I had them all the time. It's a horrible habit. I'm worried that someday it might catch up with me."
"Glad you like it. Enjoy," Han told her, giving her a smile that wasn't taunting.
They were interrupted by Chewie, who gave Han a damage report.
"Not as bad as it could have been," Han informed Leia, when the Wookiee had finished. "Why don't you get some sleep, Princess?"
"I can help you with repairs," Leia offered.
"Nah, we really didn't take a hard hit," Han told her. "I'll be crashing out soon. Go ahead."
"You're sure?" Leia asked, half wanting to help and half wanting to eat more chocolate and head to her quarters.
"Yeah, we got this one," Han assured her. "By the way, you look beautiful. You should wear girls' clothes all the time."
"It's a little hard to when you're fighting a war," Leia informed him. "But thank you."
Han winked at her as he and Chewie headed for the repair bays.
Leia's feelings regarding the smuggler were more confused than ever. Especially since he was actually being nice to her.
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"All right, let's get this baby back together," Han groaned as they entered the equipment bay for the port stabilizer.
{You really like her,} Chewie awwroowed, without missing a beat as he fired up a welding torch.
"Will you shut up already?" Han snarled back. His feelings for the Princess were, well, complicated. Han wasn't one to share his emotions, and although Chewie was his best friend, he still was loathe to discuss them, especially when he wasn't sure what they were at this point.
Chewie burst into laughter. {You've got it bad, cub.}
"I do NOT have it 'bad,' whatever 'it' is!" Han shot back.
They began to work, but Chewie continued laughing. {C'mon, face it. You're in love!}
Han glared at him. "And what makes you an expert on how I feel?"
{I'm with you all the kriffing time! I know you!}
Han was growing more and more annoyed with his faithful friend.
"I don't comment on your love life, pal!" he snapped. Han was assessing what had been damaged on the stabilizer, determining what needed doing, and what tools were required. The conversation was fast becoming an unwelcome distraction from the business at hand, which he really wanted to complete as rapidly as possible.
{I'm married,} Chewie reminded him, refusing to be put off. {And I've never said anything other than that I love Malla.}
"Yeah, well, things get complicated between humans," Han muttered crossly.
{I've noticed.}
"Congratulations on your amazing powers of observation," Han sniped.
{Why don't you just tell her you like her?} Chewie cocked his head.
Han, pulling some tools together, looked at Chewie as if the giant Wookiee had gone mad. "In case you haven't noticed, she's hell-bent on winning this crazy war. It's all she thinks about."
{You didn't answer my question.}
"Oh, right, I go up to her and say, Princess, I really like you and I want to be with you. Sure."
{Why not?} Chewie shrugged.
"She's a princess! She's the face of the revolution! You're an idiot!" Han was trying to concentrate on making the repairs as quickly as possible and didn't really want to discuss the matter. Chewie could be irritating sometimes, and this was one of them.
{She likes you, too,} Chewie said, his tone serious this time.
"Oh, c'mon, Chewie, most of the time she can't stand me!"
{She's been really nice on this trip. She likes being with you. I could tell at Traders' Plaza.}
"We were just trying to make a decent day out of a lousy expedition," Han protested as he lowered himself down into the repair access. His feet were sore from traipsing around all day, and he wasn't looking forward to engaging in the various contortions necessary to repair the damage.
{I saw you having kaf. You guys looked like a couple.} Chewie worked with the welding torch, not looking up, but continuing to converse with Han, although Han thought it was starting to resemble harassment.
Finally, Han decided he'd heard enough from his friend. He was in the stabilizer bay, hot, dirty, tired, and not in the mood for repairs, or Chewie's 'insights.' "Chewie, we're on a mission, okay? It's nice that for the most part she hasn't been biting my head off, but that doesn't mean she likes me, okay? So shut up and work!" Hearing the possibility that Leia might actually like him was was playing havoc with both his brain and his heart, and he was too tired to deal with the possibility
right now.
{Let's finish up. Then please go to bed,} Chewie pleaded. {You're such a grump. Especially when you're in love.} The Wookiee gave a fiendish smile, his sharp white teeth bared as he chuckled.
Han raised himself up and waggled a stiff finger under Chewie's nose. "Last time I checked, I was the captain, and I gave the orders, and I'm ordering you to shut up!" He lowered himself back into the pit and continued to work on the partially disabled stabilizer.
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Exhaustion washed over Leia like a wave in one of Aldreraan's oceans as she laid back on the bunk. Her feet felt better, having spent sometime sans shoes, but the rest of her really needed some sleep, and she wasn't going to fight it. She only hoped that she could rest as well as she had on the journey to Kallistas.
She didn't want to wrinkle the dress, though; she hoped she'd have a chance to wear it again soon. With great effort, she pulled herself upright and grabbed her duffel from the small storage cabinet, pulling out her tatty grey sleep shirt. The sight of the rough fabric, growing thin from incessant laundering, depressed her. Gods only knew how many women had worn it before her. Not that she expected special treatment; this was wartime and that was the way things were. But she did miss the luxurious fabrics that had comprised her sleepwear while she'd been growing up, and then as a senator.
I can be very shallow sometimes, she admitted to herself with a wry smile.
She sat back down on the small bunk, where she'd slept so well previously. It was, she had to admit, more comfortable than the cot in her quarters. It was utilitarian, but there was an unexpectedly homelike quality to it. It was lived in, quiet, a place to retreat to.
Leia stared at the folded garment at the foot of the bunk. It was Han's robe, which somehow had never made it back to the 'fresher. She ran her hand over the soft fabric. In times past she might not have thought the material had such a fine hand to it, but life on the front lines had changed her perceptions of a lot of things.
The most alarming of those discoveries was that her perceptions of the captain of this vessel—if the Falcon could be dignified with such a term—were shifting, and in a direction that was both unfamiliar and just a little frightening. Yes, she'd always found him handsome—how could she not? And it was in a real, very masculine sort of fashion that she found appealing. He wasn't pretty, like some of the princes and playboys she'd known, who often went to great lengths to make themselves, at least in their eyes, more physically appealing. Leia would have preferred that
they'd have worked more on their character, but Han didn't need work in that department, either; he had more than any being should be allowed , she thought ruefully.
And in a weird way, she liked that about him.
What was most disconcerting was that when they were alone, he was considerate and even gentle. Yes, he still teased her mercilessly—and she made sure she gave back as good as she got—but he was not intimidated by her status. That was rare, and she appreciated it.
Leia took the folded robe and pressed it against her chest, sinking her chin down into it, feeling its warmth and softness.
There was no way she was going to sleep in her regulation nightshirt this time.
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"We've done as much as we can do here," Han said wearily as he and Chewie cleaned up after themselves, stocking tools back in their bins and wiping lubricants off of themselves. "I'm going to bed."
{Good,} Chewie arroowfed. {I'm on watch.}
"Thanks," Han muttered gruffly. He was worn out and grubby. There was lubricant all over his clothing and in his hair. His hands were black. A shower and sleep would be very welcome indeed.
He clambered heavily up from the repair bay, his limbs aching. He had considered a quick sonic shower, but tonight necessitated a water one, and a hot one at that.
On his way to his quarters, Han stood before the door to the crew quarters.
He would give anything to see her sleeping again. When he'd seen her the night before, Leia had looked so peaceful, so angelic. His heart had burst with love and protectiveness when he'd gazed at her.
What if she was awake? That might not, he considered, be such a pleasant encounter. Leia was a private woman. He could understand that; he was a private person himself.
Deciding to risk it, he opened the door. Sliding it only a few centimeters, the dull light in the passageway glowed in just enough that he could see Leia peacefully asleep, her long curtain of hair falling about her...and wearing his robe.
Han wondered how she looked under the robe. He imagined her full breasts, curvy hips and creamy skin. All he wanted to do was crawl in next to her, take her in his arms, and hold her close to him. There were other things he'd like to do, of course, but he'd take simply embracing her and breathing in her scent, feeling her warmth. And her wearing his robe felt strangely-and delightfully-intimate.
And besides, it looks better on her, he thought, smiling.