"You going to eat that?" Chewie asked Han.
Amused, Han slid his plate over to Chewie. "Nah, go ahead."
It was a familiar pattern between the two. Han found that Chewie always had a great appetite, since a Wookiee's body required more calories, and that what was regarded as a typical serving size in dining establishments was below standard for a Wookiee, so Han often compensated by letting Chewie finish his own food. Han also had learned that a Wookiee ate just about anything. On Kashyyk, they were predominantly carnivores, but in their space travels together, Chewie ate anything and everything placed before him.
"Ah, real food," Leia enthused, patting her belly. "You'll need to fill the stores on the Falcon, Han. Chewie and I were resorting to ration bars the last two days we stayed on board."
Han nodded. "All I had was a bowl of fruit."
Luke looked guiltily at them. "I ate pretty well. That hospitality droid checked on me every four hours."
Han sat in his Kwilaan dress shirt at a table next to Leia. He had carelessly deposited the officer's jacket on a chair against the wall and made a mental note to himself to forget to retrieve it when they left.
Chewie and Luke were across from them. They had been sequestered together while the War Crimes Committee deliberated and Security resolved how a former Imperial had managed to bring a gun into the Senate chambers.
They had been sequestered, because Han was a firebrand and Leia was vehement, Luke had the Force and Chewie was a Wookiee. The Senate and the Alliance, all for the purposes of building a new government, had found cause and need to separate the four. They were singularly more identifiable to the public's mind than anything else, and for that reason were viewed as a potential threat and a danger to the new government.
Han's face was a reminder of cracks in a foundation. Even the contrast of his youthful good looks set against the sallow, sagging skin of the Emperor was a subliminal message of dangerous change. If he were given freedom to move, the public would lack confidence in The New Republic, feeling he might succeed again at a takeover if the whim struck him.
Luke, demonstrating his dazzling control of the Force, stirred uncomfortable feelings from the past. Palpatine had ensured that the Jedi became ineffective during the Clone Wars and convinced the public to distrust the Force. Then he had struck the Jedi down, yet here was one on the Senate floor, fully realized and powerful. The New Republic had no idea what to make of Luke, or what to do with him.
While the policies of the Empire were disassembled, the New Republic found it had inherited perceptions and prejudices that couldn't be erased simply by replacing a logo. The Empire served to benefit humans, and the proud Wookiee that menaced the former Imperials in the spectator's gallery was an incendiary indictment against all humans. Chewie, though unwittingly, brought a new fear to the aftermath of the coup. Could non-humans, once regarded as less intelligent, civilized, evolutionized; could they be relied upon to accept the new direction? Could they remain calm and be patient? should they remain in a lesser role, a lower position, lest they not wait for quiet change and rise up, exacting revenge upon the species they now outnumbered?
Even Leia had isolated herself as Senator Organa. Every former Senator that returned to the New Republic had denounced the Empire. Their speeches described how the Empire held their planets in a stranglehold. They described how a despot's rule caused a breakdown in the intergalactic relations, how their own worlds suffered a loss of civil liberties, sustained economic hardship due to embargoes, and endured political ineffectiveness and corruption. But at least they still had a homeworld. Leia was the only one who had identified herself as a personal vicitm, both as Alderaanian and prisoner of war. She was the only one who pointed an accusing finger at Palpatine, leader of the Empire, and demanded not only justice, but punishment.
They were told it was for their own safety. They weren't naive; it could have only been the partial truth, but they were fine with it. At least Han had been brought the promised food. They had all sat down to eat together, discussing the gunman and interpreting the different ways the committe could view the testimony from Rieekan and Han. They were split on the gunman's target. Han and Chewie thought he was aiming for Leia after speech damning Palpatine, while Leia and Luke felt he blamed Han for the death of his Emperor and wanted revenge.
All in all, it was a homey gathering. There wasn't much for them to do at the moment. They were in a kind of holding pattern, Han thought. Everything was beyond their control now, and they were just waiting the others out to see what new directions their lives would take. Han found he looked forward to the idea of being able to restock the Falcon's stores.
The quiet whisper of the door opening startled them.
"I might start offering a punch card for patients like you, Solo," Doc Brack told him cheerfully, breezing into the room. "This is the third time I'll have treated you; two more and the sixth medical visit is free!"
The man entering was a familiar yet jarring sight, as was the slight girl following him in. His manner professed intimacy; his statement professionalism. He spoke as a friend while dressed as an Alliance medic. To Luke it was like bringing the snows of Hoth to the Dune Sea on Tatooine.
Han frowned at the two people they hadn't seen in a long time. At least it seemed like a long time. The medic carried a rectangular hard case. Behind him Maranya wheeled in a cart. He had almost forgotten about them. Almost. They had appeared in his dream just hours ago, the one with the adorable but somehow dead baby rancor that looked like a Wookiee cub. Han looked at Chewie suspiciously. What a crazy dream.
Chewie, Luke and Leia recovered their shock quickly. They greeted the pair warmly, continuing the teasing and offering Han up as their target.
"He's got a way with bringing us all together," Luke said, clasping hands with the medic.
"Next time he could try inviting you by comm instead of getting injured," Chewie put in, patting the man's back.
"You got injured, too," Han grumbled. "And I don't need a medic."
Scowling, Hant took in their official Alliance uniforms and the natural ease with which they moved in them. It had been less than two weeks since he had left them at Sullust, yet they had obviously embraced their new roles and undergone a sort of transformation.
"You let me decide that," Doc Brack grinned, placing a case on the table and unlatching it.
The Alliance uniform had never graced his own form and now it never would. Luke and Leia had worn it with pride and had now moved on to different costumes while Han was still identifiable by his spacer's vest and Bloodstripe pants. Han felt a familiar disgruntlement; some kind of dissatisfaction. Time had passed without him; people and circumstances and things had all moved on; changed, and somehow he wasn't a part of it. It was hard to put his finger on what exactly unsettled him, but suddenly he felt out of sorts, grumpy.
Maybe it's Doc Brack's fault, he considered. The last time he'd felt like that was when he was in the medcenter. And the time before that, when he'd regained consciousness in his office at Jabba's. He couldn't understand how Doc Brack had managed to bathe and shave him, and it hadn't awakened him. Was it a physical cause, part of being injured and recovering that left him feeling this way? He wanted to know, but he never had the courage to voice his feelings out loud. He would prefer that Doc Brack offer a list of conditions during recovery: soreness, stiffness, underlying insecurity, fatigue...He didn't want ā wouldn't dare ā to mention it.
"Your hair!" Maranya exclaimed to Leia and marched up to her to examine the new style. "Why did you cut it?" She seemed puzzled and saddened by Leia's hair, which in contrast seemed bouncy and happy.
Leia smiled self-consciously. "It wasn't by choice," she explained.
"The Emperor tried to kill her, but he only got some hair instead," Luke added. "Good thing she had so much of it."
"Yes, it was my insulation," Leia continued the light tone, but it struck her that maybe that's exactly what her hair had been. Long hair was distinctly Alderaanian. Maintaining the style had been a way to keep her culture alive. It had also been a form of armor. She had wrapped herself up in a dead world and refused to accept invitations to join a new one. When the Emperor had destroyed that world a second time by destroying her hair, and Leia reacted better this time. Instead of withdrawing into grief she had risen to her feet, realizing that clinging to the past had been more damaging than correcting it. Now, Alderaan was vindicated. The Emperor was dead. She didn't have to swath herself in symbols.
"I actually like it," she said, lifting her hair lightly with her palm at the base of her neck and letting the hair bounce off it. "It's very freeing."
"It's pretty," Maranya said politely.
Leia could see Maranya preferred her long hair, but she dismissed her opinion. Leia was actually proud of her hair. It was a badge of honor. And it was temporary; if she wanted long hair again she need only be patient. It would grow.
Two armed escorts accompanied Doc Brack and Maranya and took up positions on either side of the door. Leia, Luke, Han and Chewie fell silent while they tried to work out their presence. "There hasn't been a verdict yet, has there?" Leia asked for all of them.
"No, Senator," one replied affably. "General Rieekan doesn't want a repeat of what happened on the Senate floor."
Leia nodded, accepting their answer. "Yes, I suppose given someone brought a weapon into a Senate session it's good to have precautions."
Chewie spread his arms out. "Come here, Simple Girl," he told her. "You look like you found the sun."
Maranya looked hesitantly at Han, a questioning look on her face.
"He wants a hug," Han told her.
It occurred to Leia, now that she was fluent in Shyriiwook, how subjectively Han translated Chewie's speech. This time he hadn't even translated any of it. Anyone could see by his body language that Chewie requested a hug. But Han had omitted the part about finding the sun. Leia saw it was another poetic Wookiee adage about how a tree gained strength, nourishment, and health from sunshine. Chewie was telling Maranya that she looked good. She didn't correct Han, however, and only looked at him curiously.
Maranya smiled, and with a quick glance for permission from Doc Brack, she wrapped her arms around Chewie's belly, rubbing his new fur carefully. She looked up at him, a troubled look on her face. "You didn't treat this one spot," she observed.
Chewie answered with a soft rumble of sounds.
"Wookiees have honor scars," Han described. "It marks the fallen from a battle. That one will be for Yoda."
"Chewie, that'sā¦," Luke's voice was thick. "That's...I don't know." He considered a moment. "That is an honor." He found he was missing Yoda. His Master had become a constant in his life. He missed the heavy sighs, the thumps of the walking stick as he walked, their connection when they meditated together. On his own, he could travel the tendrils of the Force and touch Yoda's life print, and found contentment and satisfaction, but it wasn't quite the same as occupying Life together. Luke felt there was still a lot more he had to learn about the Force, and was lonely to be once again on his own, figuring things out by himself.
Doc Brack sighed. "We've seen the footage," he told them, kissing the top of Leia's hand. Han snorted. "We were very disturbed. Very worried. Needless to say, we're glad to see you. And have the opportunity to treat you. We volunteered as soon as we heard there was to be a deployment."
"But is Yoda really dead?" Maranya blurted, looking around as if he would pop up from under the table. "I heard it announced. But Vader was there, and I know he couldn't have been. So I thought, maybe..."
There was always a body when someone died at Jabba's. Even if eaten by the rancor, something of the body was left behind. Bones. Maranya had not seen any physical evidence to prove to her Yoda was gone. She did not want him to be gone. He had been one of the first beings she met upon leaving Jabba's palace, and he had shown her kindness. She would never forget that.
"He's no longer with us," Luke said, thinking the euphemism was so true.
Everyone lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
Death, Luke mused. He saw it for what it was, the other side of existence. But to non-Force users, it sure had the ability to stop all conversation. "He meant for it, though," he told Doc Brack and Maranya. "I think he knew it all along," he smiled at Chewie and Leia, "soon as we landed on his swamp."
"I have one of his drawings," Doc Brack put in. "I picked up a flimsi to make notes in, from when I was catching up on the medical journals during the sand storm. I didn't realize he'd used it. Maranya found it - we had a hard copy made. It's hanging in my office."
"Another kind of honor," Luke said.
"Yes," Doc Brack agreed. "I thought maybe what all of you managed to do at Jabba's was just an outgrowth of helping Solo get out of there. But then you came here, and did it all again, and not for a friend, but for everyone. I hear what they're saying, and I see how they are treating you. That's why I'm here. Both of us." The medic included Maranya with a wave of his hand. "We'll do what we can to help. And if easing the brunt of Force lightning is all I can do, Solo, you'll let me do it."
As if cued, Maranya turned to the cart and brought it up to the table near Han, who eyed it suspiciously.
The cart had three shelves. The top one was bare but the middle and lowest contained large boxes. Han watched as she pulled out individual packets of sterile faux-skin. She punctured the seal and let the substance ooze over her hands. She still never tired of watching the liquid solidify into an elastic rubber-like gell that coated her hands like a new layer of skin. She prepared a second packet for Doc Brack who then applied the faux skin to his own hands. He moved with a practiced, casual air, like it was second nature. Maranya pulled a disposable sterile cloth from another box and placed it on the top shelf of the cart.
Doc Brack began to sort through various implements in his case and set them on the cloth. He eyed Han's burnt cheek expertly and nodded to himself. "Let's see, Solo. Off with the shirt."
Han was watching Maranya. "She's your assistant?"
"She is," Doc Brack nodded. "She's in Medical Aid training. She should be certified soon. You get a lot of practice in, working with armed forces."
"Hey, that's great," Luke said, feeling genuinely glad for Maranya. Maybe it was Chewie's noble treatment of Yoda, a marking of a life lived, that had sparked this, but he was again quite emotional. He clearly remembered Maranya's behavior, at times almost feral. She had been treated with and seen such brutality, that it was a thing of beauty to see her standing next to Doc Brack, waiting to assist him in treating a patient. Her own life was marked now with honor as a life deserving.
Doc Brack shone a penlight on Han's cheek. "You don't look as bad as I thought you might. When we saw that lightning..." he tsked, shaking his head.
"Told you I didn't need a medic. I soaked in a bath for four days." His fingers played with the button fastened on his sternum, but he didn't undo it.
Leia reached for a button on his wrist cuff. "Let's put this battle behind us, once and for all," she said.
Han snatched his arm away. "Does there have to be a crowd in here?" he snapped.
Stung, Leia returned her hands to her lap, puzzling over Han's sudden change in mood. Or rather, sorry for the change in mood. She had a feeling she knew what had caused it.
"Why are you so modest all of a sudden," Luke complained. "I've seen you walk half naked around the Falcon plenty of times."
"Get out," Han ordered the guards at the doorway. "You can keep watch from out there."
"Han," Chewie assuaged his partner. "They're just doing their jobs."
"I don't give a shit. I don't need an audience."
"Han-"
"That goes for all of you. Out." Han rose, ushering everyone through the door.
"Fine," Luke obeyed sullenly. "Let's go to East's room," he told the others.
"You, too," Han said to Maranya, who opened her mouth in protest, but he pushed on her back and suddenly the door was shut in her face.
"I'm supposed to help," Maranya said meekly.
"East's Room?" Leia asked, and Chewie gave her a shrug.
Luke led them to an upper level of the palace, the two guards and Maranya following along. "Han and I found this room when you two first went in with Yoda. I spent a lot of the time afterward in here. Here, or in the ruins. I like the chairs in here."
A droid appeared. "Good afternoon, Sir," it greeted Luke.
"Hi, BX19," Luke answered, his tone friendly. "We don't need anything - we just ate. Unless, do you want a drink, Maranya?"
She shook her head and the droid withdrew. Leia couldn't help smiling at Luke affectionately. Some would not have bothered to greet a droid. Still fewer would probably not have bothered to learn a droid's designation, especially in the context of war and victory. Luke had always been a considerate and empathetic soul, no matter who he talked to, and she thought that just got stronger the stronger he became in the Force. He even made sure to let a droid know it was valued. Your beauty, he had said to her long ago when he described how she used the Force to understand people's motivations. I know your beauty, she thought about him.
Maranya plucked at the faux-skin glove on her hand.
"You wanted to show Han your new job, didn't you?" Luke remarked to Maranya.
Yes, she did, Leia thought, surprised at her the sinister tone in her head. Maranya was obviously put out. She had been eager to show her new life to the man who had helped her get it, and he had brushed her off.
"I'm sorry he didn't let you," Luke continued. "If you want, we could have Chewie slug him and you can try again."
Maranya smiled slightly, understanding Luke was trying to cheer her up.
"How do you find Sullust?" Chewie asked. "I'm proud you are in training."
"He's asking about what life is like for you on base at Sullust," Luke told her. "Do you like your job?"
Maranya looked from Chewie's earnest face to Luke's politely conversational one. She nodded, her thumb running over the smooth faux-skin. "It's fine," she answered. It certainly was infinitely better than life at Jabba's. She had given her word to Solo and kept it, never offering pleasure to anyone. That was why she'd been eager to see him. "They want me to stay with Doc Brack so that's why I'm in that training program."
Leia dipped her head, piercing through Maranya's comments to understand that the girl was still not completely assimilated yet into conventional society. "What else do you do?"
It was hard to get an idea of what her life was like, and yet at the same time it was very illuminating. Maranya described the foods they served in the cafeteria and listed her favorites. She told them of a game she'd invented on her cot, where she burrowed under the soft blanket and pretended that she was digging in the sand to hide. Leia, Luke and Chewie gathered that she was in counseling and had other classes besides her Medical Training program, but when asked about those her eyes lost their animation and enthusiasm, and she resorted to one word answers. Dob Brack obviously regarded her as both patient and friend. She needed treatment to cure the wrongs done to her, and she needed the support of a role model to help her grow into herself.
Well, Leia thought to herself, change is slow. To be done right, it's got to be systemic, from the inside. Maranya, the New Republic... Leia weighed the two on each hand.
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"Can you feel that?" Doc Brack pressed into Han's shoulder blade. The burns on Han's cheek and wrists were easy to treat. They had no doubt been painful, but had not involved too much subcutaneous tissue and were healing on their own. The one across his back was nastier, and he tested to see if there had been some nerve damage.
"Spent a little too much time underwater, I think," he commented to Han.
"Well, it felt good," Han replied. He was sitting atop the table, watching his legs swing idly.
"I'm sure it was painful when the air touched it, and wearing the same shirt you got injured in didn't help, either. Here." He handed a tube of bacta gel. Solo was an irascible patient, and Doc Brack knew how to get him to cooperate. "You put that on your face and hands. I'll get the back."
The liquid bacta was cool and slippery, and Han couldn't help sigh a bit in relief. "That feels good, too."
"It's what you should have had in the first place," Doc Brack said. "Your blood count is good; I don't think infection will be an issue, but let's do an antibiotic injection to be safe."
Han waited silently while Doc Brack administered the injection and bandaged his back. Then he handed Han a simple undershirt.
"You're a lucky man," he told Han. "Again." He watched Han pull the shirt over his head. "Do you think of Jabba's much?"
Han's head jerked up in surprise. "Huh? Why would I think about that hell hole?"
"I do," Doc Brack admitted. "Maybe you weren't there long enough. I think about it a lot. The rancor."
"The rancor?" Han repeated. His eyes left the medic's, remembering the sweet rancor/cub of his dreams. A bit of a coincidence, he thought.
"Yeah. All the beings that fed it. It seemed so...normal then. When I look back, I can't believe I ... it was normal to us. But it was so wrong."
And you were high, Han wanted to tell him, but he said nothing.
"I wish that saving the galaxy made it right. But it doesn't."
Han nodded. He knew what Doc Brack meant. He didn't like thinking about being at Jabba's because nothing made him feel good about it; nothing good had ever happened there. Except killing Jabba. That had felt pretty good. And apparently that was wrong too, because now he was facing a murder charge for killing someone even worse. And he hadn't even done the killing! Just like he hadn't been part of feeding the rancor. But not participating in that wrong meant that another part of him had been taken; twisted, all the good parts wrung out, and then that part of him was returned, damaged and broken. And now the damn rancor was showing up in his dreams!
"I don't know what to do about it," Doc Brack confessed.
"Nothing you can do," Han told him, though he'd thought the same himself. Mind wipe. "Just don't go back to spice."
The medic shook his head. "No, I won't. I take the pseudo spice. And I'm learning the triggers - I've been talking to someone. Now, you know what my weakness is? Chococo cream!" He rubbed his stomach. "Gained four pounds. Ate a whole pint once." He smiled ruefully.
Han returned the smile. "It's still healthier."
"Oh, yes," the medic chuckled. "What they say for Mar-"
He was interrupted by General Rieeken's entrance. The general looked around the room, his brow creasing into a frown.
"Where are the guards?" he asked the men.
"I dismissed 'em," Han said.
"You can't dismiss them," Rieekan contradicted. "You're not Alliance. They won't follow your orders."
"Well, then I told 'em to leave. They're not outside?"
"No. Solo-"
"They went with the others, then."
Rieekan nodded. "I came for them, too. Where are they?"
"I heard Luke say they were going to East's room."
"Where?" Rieekan made one sharp movement with his head as if Han had erupted in some foreign language.
Han wanted to laugh. He waved his hand. "Our special room," he told the General. He slid off the table. "Done Doc?Coming too? I'll show you how to get there, General. Thanks for the grub, by the way."
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Leia rose from her body-conforming seat the second Rieekan appeared, not an easy feat, but it was a telling sign for how much on edge she was. Her sense of foreboding grew when she saw the calm countenance's of Han and Doc Brack with him. He hasn't told them anything.
Luke had made the motion to turn the holos on, but she dissuaded him. Their futures were being decided. She was not going to listen to idle speculation from the media, who had shown they would say just about anything, and she couldn't bear to watch the Senate itself in session. She didn't want to know the process. She only wanted the result.
"Well?" she demanded of Rieekan the moment he was in the room. The hospitality droid appeared again. "Go away!" she snapped at it.
"Now's not the time, BX19," Luke told the droid apologetically.
"Yes, sir." The droid withdrew.
Rieekan acknowledged Leia's anxiety. He wasn't going to be too helpful, he knew. "I have a report."
"Well?" she said again.
Rieekan took them all in at a glance, lingering for a moment on Doc Brack and Maranya.
"Perhaps Maranya and I should leave," Doc Brack offered, picking up on the subtle hint. It would be out on the holonews momentarily anyway. "I'm sorry, General. I'll just collect her."
Maranya stood, looking uncertainly at him. "It's all right, dear," Doc Brack soothed. "I finished with Solo. Let's go write up the patient report."
"Will we see them again?" she asked.
Doc Brack opened his mouth but Luke broke in. "Sure, Maranya," he said easily, not sure if he was telling the truth. But he saw she was struggling. She still saw the little group contained inside the Millennium Falcon during the sand storm as her little family, and one member was gone. He was touched that she understood his loss. "We'll finally give BX19 a chance to serve us later, alright?"
"What did they determine?" Leia rounded on Rieekan as soon as door closed behind the pair.
Rieekan took a big breath. "Some expected things, and some unexpected things."
"Carlist -"
"Believe me, Leia, I'm not taking any pleasure in this." His eyes swept over the group again. "First, Solo. By the footage alone, they've decided he was acting in self defense and the killing was justifiable. He's exculpated, and they as much told the ex-Imperials to hang themselves."
Leia felt tension leave her body and she sat back down. She met Han's eyes. She read disbelief and puzzlement in them. "That's good news," she exhaled in relief.
"Yes," Rieekan continued. "It was a clever move, to show the Emperor using the Force and making all that lightning. It's done more to discredit him than anything." He smiled at them. "It really shocked everyone. Palpatine had everyone convinced that the Jedi were out for themselves, and he put out the belief that the Force sensitive were dangerous. It's been suppressed all these years! Now his former subjects see for themselves that number one, he was a liar; number two, he was no different than the Jedi; and number three, he was more dangerous than any."
Rieekan leaned forward. "In fact, the Force has got the whole galaxy buzzing."
"What do you mean?" Luke asked, his interest more than piqued.
"In part, thanks to both the Emperor and you, Skywalker. The takeover showed the dual nature of the Force. Palpatine used it for power and control, and you used it to save a life and allow peacetime to have a process. You didn't kill that gunmen, and that spoke volumes."
Leia patted Luke on the arm.
"And you'll remember, when Yoda was spotted on base, Mon Mothma was excited about the prospect of the Jedi returning. Which brings me to my second item," Rieekan paused, enjoying how the Wookiee and the three humans were hanging on his every word. "They want you, Skywalker, to present before the Senate, about the Force."
Luke moved backward in his seat. "Me?" he said dubiously.
"Who else?" Chewie hooted.
"I don't ...well, what do they want to know?"
Rieekan shrugged. "Everything you can tell them. They are going to want to be reassured, however. If it isn't possible to abolish the Force in a being, then they will want to know that another Palpatine won't be created."
Luke nodded slowly. "I can do that." He felt Han's intense gaze and grinned knowingly at him.
"This is your chance, kid," Han said. "Start your academy."
"And Solo, you're not entirely in the clear. They've got some provisos for you, regarding your release."
"Like what?" Han asked apprehensively.
"No military service, no seeking political office -"
Han laughed bitterly. "They think that'll be tough for me?"
"Security will be keeping tabs on your whereabouts, making sure you don't start a cell. I'm afraid smuggling is out."
Chewie looked over at Han, wondering how his partner was going to take the news. Han conducted his smuggling career with pride. He'd built a reputation with his fast ship and protective delivery.
"I can still fly?" Han demanded.
Rieekan nodded happily. "Oh, sure. They can't interfere in that aspect of your life. Certainly you need to make a living. You're a pilot. But, if you have false registration under the Empire," Rieekan said, knowing Han's court martial had caused the Empire to blacklist him as a legal pilot, "it might behoove you to clean up all those aliases, and just be pilot Han Solo of New Republic."
Han reacted exactly as Luke had a moment ago. Chewie gave him an encouraging shrug. Han nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. I think I can do that."
"You'll never be free of the conspiracy theory, I'm afraid. Both you and the Galactic Alliance," Rieekan told them, looking at Leia. "We've put forth as much as we're going to. Some of us know more than we're telling, and the real suave Senators can smell it. They'll be going over every contact Solo had with the GA, and looking for more. Mon Mothma is going to have that hanging over her the rest of her career, but she's refusing to address it anymore."
"You too, huh Leia?" Luke said.
"It'll die down," Leia agreed. "Soon as Reconstruction is over."
"Well. There's one last thing." Rieekan swallowed. "It's...related to that, and it somehow moved along on its own."
Leia suddenly felt nervous. "What is it?"
"It's you, Princess." Rieekan suddenly got up and moved to where Leia sat. He knelt on the floor, his head bowed, a subject speaking before his Princess.
"Carlist, what is it?" Leia said again.
"Something you said, in your speech. Someone latched on to it, and it's become a big issue."
"What'd she say?" Han was searching his memory. The overlying theme had been the crimes of the Empire under Palpatine, but Leia had touched on Alderaan, being a prisoner, and being a Rebel leader.
"You spoke about the Death Star, and how Corellia and Chandrila were probably targets if it hadn't been destroyed."
"Yes..."
"And you said, forgive me Your Highness, but I'll quote it directly, you said...'I don't think I'd be the only Senator in this room without a planet to represent." Rieekan stopped, allowing Leia some time to absorb the ramifications of her statement.
"Well, she wouldn't," Luke put in.
But Leia's breath caught in her throat.
"They're redrawing the parameters of what it means to be a Senator," Rieekan mumbled sorrowfully.
"Wait a minute," Han objected.
Both Rieekan and Leia turned to him, her eyes wide and frightened.
"Because there's no Alderaan," Han stated. Both his hands were up, as if he had caught something heavy and was trying not to drop it. "Because there's no Alderaan, they think, someone's actually proposing, there shouldn't be a Senator from there?"
"One of the Senators stood up and point blank said, 'then why is she here'," Rieekan told Han.
"That's ridiculous," Luke said indignantly, wanting to go over and grasp Leia's hands. Although she looked composed, he'd seen her like this before. It had been a while, this demeanor when she cut everything off, everyone too, leaving herself isolated within her own walls. Leia, he implored, trying to reach her through the Force. She wouldn't even look at him.
"What have they decided?" she asked Rieekan coldly.
"The Senator, as it stands now, represents the planet. The planet is a political body," he said, knowing he wasn't quite answering her question.
"That's bullshit," Han thundered. "What about the beings on the planet? There's still Alderaanians - not everyone was on planet when it blew."
Rieekan nodded. "Yes, but they have relocated to another planet. Another different political body with its own senator."
Leia stood and moved to a far wall, her back to the others and her eyes raking desperately over the pattern in the fabric wallpaper.
"Oh my gods," Luke groaned.
"Have they eliminated the Seat?" Han asked.
Rieekan shook his head. "No. And they may not. As I said, it's become a big issue. They are debating the concept of the political body. But, for now," his voice dropped to a grieved hush, full of shame, "her status is revoked."
"Oh my gods!" Luke declared. He stood also, looking at Leia's stoic back. "Leia." She made no response, so he went over to the one person who somehow always managed to bring her back to them. He pushed Han on the shoulder.
Han gave him a helpless look and Luke answered with his own insistent one. Chewie watched the interchange carefully. He had made no comment because he knew Han would ignore him, too intent on Rieekan's part to bother to translate for him. He didn't like this development at all. It reeked of manipulation and self-interest, and he began to despair if there would be any change for the good, ever again. His heart broke for Leia. Once again they, whoever they were, had managed to take something from her. And yet, he observed, looking at her spine of steel, they would never be able to take it all.
Han stepped over hesitantly. "Leia? Princess?"
She turned to face him, eyes glittering with unshed tears. A small smile, bitter and sardonic graced her lips. "You call me Princess? When I have no planet? No political body?"
Han nodded gravely. "You're Princess," he told her.
She stared at him disbelievingly, thinking Nerfherder. You don't get it. But his eyes were intent on her, warm and serious. He was so troubled his eyes couldn't decide whether to be brown or green, but his uncertainty was within himself. Behind that was the unshakable conviction that she was indeed Princess Leia, and that was all she needed to be.
He noticed her softening. "Or do you prefer Sweetheart?" he asked, the playfulness suddenly back.
"I want to go to the Falcon," she decided. She would not stay within these palace walls a moment longer; not when it toyed with her, not when she had given it all to revert the palace back to the galaxy; not when it rejected her. "I need to be on the Falcon," she repeated.
"I'll take you," Han said softly, comprehending. He offered her his arm, and she held it elegantly, and Luke noticed how her devastation vanished as they swept from the room without another word to anyone.
