Home wasn't exactly inviting. Leia peered over Han's shoulder through the viewport of the Falcon. The vessel was more structure than ship, essentially a long tube, and the odd number of ships attached underneath the hull reminded Leia oddly of parasites. Chewie chatted at length about it and tapped Han's elbow to make him translate.

"Engines fore and aft," Han said tiredly. "There's a bridge- of course there's a bridge, Chewie, what do you- never mind. Twenty-four docking slots."

"That's a lot, isn't it?" Leia said. It seemed like a lot. Just how many pilots had a need to dock in the middle of space when a place to land was often a star's throw away?

Han shrugged one shoulder. "It's a good-sized one."

"And that's its only service? Docking?"

"You're thinking of those fueling stations, mobile ports. It's a vehicle. Probably a bunch of 'em when the Death Star was being built. They hold the ships that brought the crew: droids, orrrr-" Han elongated the last word, and his head shook quickly twice, "- whatever."

He wasn't at a loss for a word, Leia knew. He had shut himself up.

Chewie added a comment.

"I know," Han said. "I was tryin' not to-"

"What did he say?"

"He said docking vessels is where they hold slave auctions."

Leia gasped. She had not known that; or maybe she had, and hadn't liked to think of it. She did know the Empire treated most of its subjects as objects.

Resource Mining was an Imperial initiative. A resource might be a valuable mineral or gas on a planet, but it was also the life forms. Beings were mined for their contributions to Imperial society. Leia had attended a symphony made up of mined, musical Atenaaks; yellow, multi-digited reptiles with a strip of blue, swaying scales running down the spine. There was nothing the Senate could do about the Mined, but Leia had vague knowledge worlds were plundered by capitalist ventures outside the scope of the Empire, and now with Chewie's simple statement her mind was opened. She'd heard the term bandied about- Collected from the Wild. This was an active, illegal slave trade, and there was no consideration for a being's needs or abilities. Slaves were taken for labor, domestic service, and gods knew what else.

The uselessness of the Senate and the utter disregard for life made Leia angry and delayed her response. She wanted also to take in Chewie's statement of unemotional fact, Han's "I know"; their... experience, but Han kept on talking.

"Pretty common sight in Corellia's orbit, too," he was saying. Chewie nodded, seconding the statement.

"Which- slaves, or docking vessels," Leia's voice dripped irony. She didn't understand how either could be casual.

"Both, actually," Han said. He stole a quick glance at her over his shoulder. "Fact of life, Princess. The bulk of industry is done in orbit."

She didn't appreciate he was telling her he knew more than she did. Of course he was older. But the real difference was in how they obtained their education, and she was very curious about him. "Did you live in orbit?"

"No." He was saved from more questioning by a hail from the bridge of Home, asking Han to transmit the Falcon's ID. Pilot and copilot focused on bringing their ship in. Leia regarded them thoughtfully, thinking of their differences. She had been trained to understand how actions of the past affected a future. She planned, analyzed, discussed. Han and Chewie approached life... like it was a landing. Opportunity awaited. If it was a good idea, stay; if not, move on to the next.

They were still here, wherever that was. Not a place, but an idea. A war. Or a farm boy and a Princess. Leia couldn't stop the twitch of a smile in the corner of her mouth. She let them be, taking in their essence, and she could almost make herself believe Han beckoned Home to her rather than the other way around.

The docking vessel loomed larger. The Falcon's path veered aft and Home became three-dimensional, painted white with black lettering. The Falcon soared with a slow elegance that only space could achieve. The vessel wasn't at full occupancy; there were still empty slots, but Leia recognized the red CTC craft, and the logo of a media network on another. Two X-Wings buzzed by.

"I like watching landings," she mused. "I didn't use to as a passenger."

"Technically, this is a docking," Han said, and he moved a little. Leia thought of her friend's pet purpine, how it fluffed in pleasure when touched.

She spotted the row of four X-wings, and wondered which one was the Homestead.

"Did he tell you he named it?" she asked Han of Luke. There were no distinguishing marks on the ships.

Han laughed. "Yeah. Fools asked me to pick up some paint for them before they asked Dodonna. I got a few cans if you wanna paint something. That's his," Han indicated the third one with a toss of his chin.

Leia fell silent as Han continued communicating with the bridge of Home and slipped the freighter into a docking slot. The hatch was accessible from topside. Leia insisted on riding the lift tube alone.

"What," Han complained. "We'll fit."

"It's not that."

"I brushed my teeth," he continued to protest.

She smiled a little, but she didn't like that lift tube. "Why are you pressing, Captain? Are you afraid to be alone?"

He marched into the tube and entered it, glaring at her. As the door closed and it started its quick descent- not a great height to transcourse, she heard his voice, "Why are you-" and then it was cut off.

Inside, Home was a bit dismaying; litter dotted the interior. Carelessly dropped flight suits, blankets, and empty ration bar wrappers made it look shabby. Not at all hospitable, Leia thought as she cast a critical eye around. In fact, this fit her idea of a refugee camp more then Buteral ever could. Han strode with surety to a blanket on the floor along the wall end of the docking vessel and gave it a kick.

"Time to get up, junior," he said.

"That's," Leia stuttered, "Luke? What's he doing?"

"He's on break," Han said, not alarmed at all by the sight of their friend's lumpy form under a blanket on the floor.

If it was Luke; Leia had no clue. She saw the soles of boots, but every other part of Luke was hidden under the blanket.

"Luke," Han kicked again and spoke louder. "Get up!"

The blanket shifted, and the disheveled, sleepy head of Luke was blinking at Han. "Han?" he said sleepily. "You're back? You bring Leia?"

"What's he doing on the floor?" Leia demanded.

"I told you," Han said patiently, "he's on break. That blanket over there," he tossed his head again, "is Antilles, his wing man."

"Oh, hi, Leia." Luke combed his hair with his fingers.

"How can you rest on the floor?"

"You don't like the amenities, Highness?" Han said sarcastically. "Got a problem with sitting on the floor for a couple of hours? You both can come to the Falcon."

"I can sleep about anywhere," Luke was grinning up at Leia, now cross-legged and very awake. "But we have to leave the Wings when we're not piloting. Captain Trillo's pretty nice about doing what he can for us patrol fighters. We're only here one more night anyway."

"He'll be glad to be rid of you," Han said.

"He could put out cots," Leia suggested angrily. She could've waited in the Falcon with Chewie and let Han fetch Luke on his own and now she was going to have to step through that hatchway again.

"No, but he showed a holofilm on the bridge for us," Luke said.

Han pulled Luke to his feet. "This is a docking vessel," he reminded Leia. "He ain't got cots. It's for ships coming and going, not beings."

"It's inconsiderate," Leia decided.

"Thanks for your outrage," Luke smiled at her. "You'll have to take it up with our superiors. But we're good. Han let the four of us nap on the Falcon last break."

"That's my blanket, too," Han growled.

"Oh, right." Luke stooped to bundle it up. "I told Wedge he wasn't invited tonight," he and Han took off walking shoulder to shoulder, "but he wants some of of that compote."

Han waved a hand. "If there's any left."

Leia arched a brow at their backs. "Compote?" She looked at Han. Docked- was it a day?- and already a sort of socializing among the various pilots was taking place. "You have food?"

He looked almost embarrassed as he stopped to open the hatch leading to the Falcon. "Never smuggled groceries before," he told her.

"Buteral is public knowledge," she corrected him. "It wasn't a smuggling operation." With that last word she stepped quickly into the lift tube and palmed the door controls shut before Han could say anything about arrangement of passengers.

But she waited politely for Luke and Han at the bottom. The two descended together, an amusing and tight fit, bodies squeezed close.

"Anyway," Luke emerged, still talking about compote, "Han tried to make pie."

Leia had already forgotten the food. "What?"

"Got a good deal on overstock," Han explained. "Couple crates of fruit gettin' close to inedible."

"It's not pie," Luke said. "But it's not bad. Wedge looked it up. It's called compote."

"Apparently, you need flour to make a pie crust," Han said. "And I didn't have any."

"It's more buttery than sweet," Luke said. "Hey, Chewie," he greeted, and got a head ruffling. "But soak it up with that bread and it's good."

"The bread was overstock too. A few rolls were starting to mildew." Han smiled and spread his arms. "That's dinner!"

Leia made a face. "The opportunist's menu."

"It's fine, Leia," Luke assured her. "None of us got sick or anything."

"This keeps sounding better and better," she said dryly.

Chewie hooted with laughter. The four stood together in the wide area of the Falcon's circular corridor. Leia expected Han to ruin the moment, say something about peasants or the palate of a princess, and she was pleased to see she was wrong. Either it hadn't occurred to him, or he bit his tongue. Maybe he was actually enjoying himself.

They ate rehy stew from dispo bowls on the dejarik table, Han and Chewie on the ends of the half-moon bench with Luke and Leia on the inside. Both men ate quickly, as if the food might disappear. The life of a pilot, Leia assumed.

She was still spooning the compote- which was tasty, she had to admit- when Luke slid downward, a hand on his belly. "No compote for Wedge," he sighed, sated. "I've got... almost two hours." His eyes left his chrono. "Can I have a kaf, Han? Time enough to piss it out, but still have it keep me awake."

Luke now had the mouth of a pilot, though he still looked so young. Tired, too. "I'm sorry, Luke. I should have let you rest longer."

"What, and go another month without seeing you? No. Patrol here is turning out to be flying in circles." He patted his belly again. "I know how to prioritize."

Han stood with a snort of a laugh. "Kaf, Princess?" He bent Leia's empty bowl to break the coating on the dispo bowl, allowing it now to be easily dissolved in water. Luke helped out by folding the edges of his own bowl back. Leia heard the seal crack.

"Yes, thanks."

Chewie pressed a button and the holochess game activated. He said something to Luke.

"Oh, I don't know, Chewie," Luke said. "Your game with Wedge went so long. I don't think I have the time."

"Do you understand Shyriiwook now?" Leia asked Luke. The holographic images of the play creatures flexed and strutted before them.

"No, it's just obvious, isn't? Like with R2; I'm getting him most of the time."

"The beeps and whistles?" Leia was impressed.

"I don't think I really focus on that. Or on the sounds Chewie makes either. I hear the- the situation, the context."

"Interesting," Leia said. When she had guessed previously at something Chewie said, the possibilities had no relation at all. "Chewie taught me how to count a bit, but he repeated sounds over and over."

"Oh, you're learning? Huh, no, I guess what I'm doing is communicating a moment rather than speaking a language. I just... kind of let it wash over me, and make a guess."

"I wonder..." Leia steepled two fingers under her chin, "do you think your Force sensitivity has anything to do with it?"

"Oh, that'd be nice," Luke said with a bitter laugh. "Since I haven't done much else with it."

Chewie had selected four players. He tilted his body away from the table and yelled toward the galley.

"Sure," Han responded, his voice faint. "I'll go with the grimtaash, in honor of the Princess."

Chewie asked Han another question. Leia looked at the moment: Chewie had four pieces, Han one."Name three other players?" Leia guessed quietly to Luke

"That's what I'd answer to," he murmured back.

"Two, one," Leia said in her best representation of Shyriiwook.

The Wookie's lips peeled back in appreciation and he said a lot.

"I don't care; just pick 'em," Han called out.

"He's explaining the set up, I think," Luke said. "What did you say just now?"

"One of the numbers," Leia answered. "Three."

"Chewie's gonna play the houjix, watch," Luke murmured again.

Sure enough, Chewie sent the houjix out on the board.

"Does it all the time," Luke said.

Chewie yelled something to Han, who appeared shortly carrying the kaf. He set the dispo cups down and sucked kaf off his knuckle "Like I didn't know you were going to position the houjix. Ng'ok, ring one."

"The real houjix is actually timid, isn't it?" Lei asked. Chewie and Han had arranged their four players.

Han nodded, watching the holos take their positions. One swung a staff. "Mined as pets."

"Strange. The galaxy has so many fierce and dangerous creatures," Leia said. "You'd think they'd use one that was truly a fighter, like a rancor."

"That one can't be real," Luke said, pointing to the ng'ok. "How can it hold those hands up? If those are hands. They're like giant, toothed baskets."

Leia chuckled. The ng'ok was battling the houjix.

"They sift through watery mud, I think," Han explained. "Catch fish."

"I had a set when I was a kid," Luke said. "Not holographic. The fighters were this big," he indicated by holding his index finger and thumb apart, "and they didn't move. I lost most of them after a while. I know I buried a couple in the sand."

Leia wondered if Luke knew how sweetly funny he was.

"I haven't seen most of these myself," Luke said. "Are they all real?"

"This one's not," Leia pointed to the grimtaash.

"I thought it was," Han said.

She shook her head. "No. Just a story."

"What's the story?" Luke asked.

"It's Alderaani, actually," Leia looked at Han, because he chose it. "It could tell a traitor to the throne, and blinded them."

"There was a need for that?" Han said sarcastically.

"Corellia's kings and queens fell like leaves in fall," Leia shot back.

"True," Han admitted. "A few of those could have used the grimtaash. Like the Five Hour Queen. In the game, it's got good health points. I need something to go against Chewie's houjix."

"Do you both play the same opening gambit all the time?" Leia wondered. Holochess didn't appeal to her very much, especially if it was so predictable.

Han smiled. "Chewie's a traditionalist. We change it up soon as we send second fighters in."

Chewie whuffed a question at Han.

"Sure, now's as good a time as any." He sent his Mantellian savrip in while Chewie chose the strider.

"You been everywhere these are, Han?" Luke asked, indicating each holoplayer with a sweep of his forefinger. "I keep remembering that speech you gave me, about seeing all ends of the galaxy."

"Sounds about right," Han answered Luke while he shot Leia a dirty look, who had rolled her eyes at Luke's mention of a speech. "Most, anyway. Everywhere has its contraband."

"Hmm," Luke cocked his head. "That sounds like... wisdom. Smuggling's made a philosopher out of you." Chewie had something to add to that, and Luke laughed, noting the mock insult that crossed Han's face. "Don't worry, I won't ask you what he said. Think I caught the gist."

Leia's eyes roved one at a time to the three beings who surrounded her. She felt like she ought to comment, but didn't know in what way. They were men plus a Wookiee, they were pilots, they were... what, friends? She didn't feel left out, however; on the contrary she felt cocooned, cultivated almost, in the middle of all of them.

Who had brought them together? General Kenobi, she decided. Her took her message, he took Luke away, he brought Han along. She got a chill all of a sudden. To hear Luke tell it, it sounded random.

She went back to the board. "This one almost went extinct, the Mantellian," Leia said, pointing to Han's player that hoisted the strider over is head.

"How?" Luke asked.

"How else," Han said. "Empire. They fought back. All these others are mined- as pets, or guards, or fighters. Not many places that haven't seen the Empire take something."

"Tatooine," Luke said. "Outer Rim. Where the bantha roam free."

"Is that a travel ad?" Han laughed. "The reason they're not there is Jabba the Hutt."

"Yeah, I guess," Luke said. "Jabba the Hutt lets the bantha roam, but he'll enslave anyone who's useful to him, like the Empire does."

"Is there a lot of slavery on Tatooine?" Leia asked with interest. The Outer Rim territories were mostly ignored by the Empire, but that meant by the Senate as well.

Luke nodded from over his dispo cup. "It's- I hate to say it- kind of accepted. There's beings that don't like it- my uncle wouldn't own any- but nobody did much about it. If you go into Mos Eisley, you see a lot, owned by, well, lots. Not just Jabba the Hutt."

Leia sat back, sliding her dispo cup towards her. She noted to herself- and found it interesting- to hear Luke describe the routine of slavery while Han criticized it. She'd have bet on the opposite.

There was one other player at the table. "You're quiet, Chewie," Leia observed to the Wookiee, touching his arm. The ng'ok was out; its holoimage lay lifeless on the board. Leia shivered again, thinking of Luke under the blanket.

"We're taking the fun out of the game for him," Han said. "Kasshyyyk was hit bad." Ah, Leia answered herself. Maybe that was why. Han opposed slavery through his partner.

Chewie sent the houjix after the savrip. Then he spoke in a voice quiet for a Wookiee.

"What'd he say, Han?" Luke asked.

"I heard it," Leia said. "A number. Six?"

Han cleared his throat. "You missed the again. Twelve. Chewie spent twelve years as a slave."

"How'd you get out?" Luke asked. "Supposedly, my grandmother was a slave." He glanced around the table. "My uncle liked to tell me- it's a nice story, actually. This customer at the shop she slaved in fell in love with her, and he arranged with the owner to buy her, and he immediately freed her and married her."

"That is a nice story," Leia agreed. She was watching Chewie, who seemed to listen raptly. "Your grandfather must have been a special man to see the person under the label."

"Yeah. He was my uncle's father. But she's my father's mother."

"Was your father a slave, too?" Leia wondered.

"I don't know," Luke said, mystery clouding his eyes. "Probably not. But maybe. I don't know. He didn't come to live on the farm. Maybe he'd already left the planet. My uncle only met him once. I didn't know her. I knew my grandfather some; he died when I was a kid, but I never knew her. Wish I did."

"Mm," Leia agreed.

Chewie said something to Han, and they both laughed.

"What," Luke wanted to know.

"Chewie's not so sure he would want to marry the one that got him out."

"It was you, wasn't it," Leia said to Han. It wasn't a guess; there was no other truth.

Han lifted his eyes to her a long while, and when he nodded they dropped back to the dejarik table. "I was twenty-one. In the Navy."

Chewie woofed, humor back in his eyes.

"And not 'cause I fell in love with him," Han said, wagging a finger at Chewie.

"Did you ever smuggle slaves? Is that how it happened?" Luke asked.

"I don't smuggle slaves," Han said. "The one line I draw."

"Did you buy him out and then free him? Like my grandfather?"

"No, it... it wasn't so peaceful." Han shut the game down, agitated. Chewie yowled a protest. "I'm still dealin' with shit from it."

"Like what?" Luke asked. His tone had grown serious. And caring, Leia thought. "You did a good thing."

Han looked at his chrono. "Take too long to tell it, kid," but they could tell he was lying. "Upshot is, I got a life debt, blacklisted, and a smuggling career, maybe in that order."

Chewie reached out to ruffle Han's hair, who dodged out of the way.

"Would it help if I said something?" Luke said.

Han snorted. "Probably not. Who'd listen to you?" he scoffed.

"To you. You... I mean, to, to care like that-"

"Caring is overrated."

Luke smiled. "Right. I forgot."

"And don't go saying anything. Chewie don't like it when beings know his past."

Leia glanced at Chewie, who was not upset at all. The Wookiee's blue eyes were steady on Han, amused.

"He doesn't mind us knowing,"Leia observed. "How old are you, Chewie? If you don't mind me asking." She knew that a Wookiee could live for centuries, and she hoped that the period he spent as a slave was a mere blip to what else his life held in store for him.

Chewie held up his fingers and made a noise.

"Ten," Leia understood.

"That can't be right," Luke said.

Chewie shook his head and banged on the table many times.

"I lost count," Luke said.

Leia laughed at Luke and looked at Han. "Should I be multiplying?"

Han's head was in his hands. "You two drive me crazy. I'm going to get a drink, and I'm going to watch the moonrise." He left the table.

Luke and Leia were coming to the conclusion that Chewie was two hundred and thirty-seven years old when Han strolled back with a bottle of deep amber liquid.

Chewie growled a warning.

"I'm not gonna spill, asshole," Han retorted and they heard the cockpit slide shut.

"Don't worry," Luke leaned into Leia, speaking quietly. "I've seen enough of him the past two days that I can get away with it. I think that's my job, to piss him off. I seem to do it a bit."

"You know, you may be right. Down on Buteral, he got a bit thorny twice, and both times it was when I mentioned you."

Luke smiled. "See."

Leia smiled back. "He might resent you."

"He might be looking in an old, cracked and tarnished mirror."

Leia nodded, her brows up in surprised agreement. "You're perceptive, Luke," she told him.

He was modest, too. "The thing is, he's the one who freed a slave. I never did, so who's the goody two boots?"

Leia considered. "Even knowing what I know, I would never call him a goody two boots. You, yes."

Luke smiled. "Chewie says I should keep on pissing him off."

Chewie whuffed a definite bark of approval.

"So we're supposed to let him sulk?" Leia asked. Their heads were leaning into each other but they weren't quite whispering, and she wondered if Han could hear them.

"Nah, he's not sulking. He's thinking. Right, Chewie?" Luke tapped a finger to his temple, and the Wookiee answered with the same gesture. Luke smiled. "It's good for him. We'll see what he comes up with. But when I leave in a few you can pour that whiskey on his head if you want."

"I can do that," Leia said with a smile.

"Han's a good guy," Luke said firmly. He sat up straight.

"You don't have to tell me," Leia answered. It was nice to hear it.

"But he's also a jerk," Luke added.

Leia and Chewie laughed.


"Hey, Han," Luke called out later. "I'm leaving."

The cockpit door panel unlatched and Han leaned against the threshold.

Luke moved to him. "See you, asshole," and he gave Han a hug.

Han patted Luke's back, the cause of his agitation forgiven. "Clear skies, prick."

Leia watched them, envious at the ease of their friendship, the lightness of it. Hers was heavy. Costly. The last time they had all been together she felt rent to pieces when they parted. She was better now, whether it was sanity or health or just the passage of time but goodbyes still made her nervous.

Luke chuckled. "Where you headed next?"

"Not sure yet. Might talk to the general."

Leia perked up her ears.

"Alright. Don't go to the Hutt, yet," Luke ordered.

Han raised one brow. "I'm waiting for your permission?"

"If you know what's good for you. I'm a commander." Luke came to Leia with a knowing smile. "Bye, Leia. Hopefully I'll see you soon."

She squeezed him in a hug. "Keep flying in circles. I worry about you."

"You have my permission," he grinned at her, and went to take the lift back up to the hatchway.

And then Luke was gone. She, Han and Chewie were standing there, suddenly off balance. Leia wanted to call him back. Maybe it was the casual utterance of worry, Luke saying she should and could; it was something she didn't know occupied her but once said it flared to life, like a flame. Her mood shiift surprised even her. From cozy to warning don't!

Luke had laughed her off. It was just like with Han and her tree. Luke just didn't get it. I worry about you, beat in her pulse. It was more frightening somehow that he could die rather than he would.

The three of them together- their bond linked them, made them strong. And she felt- she wasn't sure- it might be ego or fear, but- three links on a chain, they were equally strong. Separated, and-

Chewie said something.

Leia half-turned. She was standing at the hatch, without knowing she had followed Luke.

Han's eyes were watching her. They looked troubled and amber, reflecting the properties of the whiskey. "Chewie said," he spoke slowly, as if to keep her from making a sudden move, "it's just you and him now." He paused. "It was a joke."

"Yes." Leia forced a smile and showed it to Chewie. "Funny."

Han thought he rescued Chewie. He probably thought he rescued Leia. But that wasn't how she saw it. And maybe Chewie didn't, either. She had shot the wall. Han was a reminder how she needed to be more self-reliant, more self-sufficient. All of him: his defensiveness, humor, inscrutability; the fact that he could die, and she might be there to see it.

Like watching from the bridge...

She wasn't going to do that again. "I have an idea," she collected herself fully. "Let's set up that training remote. It's been a while, so I might be rusty. We can have a contest, but you have to give me a decent handicap."

He couldn't resist a bet, she knew that much. He followed her to the lounge.