Siren's Song

Drama. Totally AU. Set about six months prior to the events in A New Hope.

Nal Hutta

Even in the smoke-filled cantina, the human female radiated elegance and confidence. She looked out-of-place, although it was apparent she was trying to blend in by wearing a dark gray cloak that covered most of her face, and scuffed boots on her feet. She reached across the table, placing her hand on top of the other's hand. Her nails were trimmed short, but were still quite well manicured. "I can't begin to tell you how much this means to me," she said quietly to her companion. "You've been a loyal friend for such a long time, I'll never be able to repay you."

She listened carefully to the other's reply, nodding in understanding. "You're certain this particular smuggler will meet our requirements? I've seen his ship, and it seems a bit, um, shall we say rustic?" She smiled as her companion gave a lengthy response. "I just hope he doesn't shoot first and ask questions later."

The other creatures in the bar turned briefly to look at them as the woman's friend gave a loud laugh. "I've waited so long," she said, her tone turning sad. "I've never given up hope." A short question followed. "No, the Jedi would not be happy with my decision. Actually, I was never happy with the decisions they made on my behalf, either, so I suppose that makes us even." She turned a radiant, if somewhat nervous smile at her friend. "It's time to begin. I'll meet you on Myrkr, then. Captain Karrde's shuttle will be waiting for you at docking bay sixteen." She pushed a credit chip across the table, watching as the being placed it in his pouch, and got up to leave.

She had no doubts her money was in good hands, and that her friend would purchase what she needed to succeed in her mission. After giving her companion some time to leave, she stood and walked out of the bar, and into a far more dangerous situation.

Han Solo was both angry and hurt. Sitting in the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon, Han stared at the message console, barely able to comprehend what he was hearing. His co-pilot had taken off, without so much as a farewell in person, claiming a better job offer had come along.

"Sorry, Han old friend," the stocky, olive-hued humanoid with scales instead of skin was saying, while not looking in the least bit sorry. "I never had the stomach for living life in the fast lane. Taking this maintenance job on a public transport makes for a longer life-span. I'm sure you'll find yourself another co-pilot – probably a pretty female if I know you. Clear skies!" He waved his webbed hand toward the viewer and the hologram blinked out.

"Some friend you turned out to be, Nyett," Han snarled in disgust at the now-silent console. "I've contacted Jabba, and he wants us to take a spice run. Without a co-pilot, what the kriff am I suppose to do now?" The console remained silent in response to Han's annoyed question. After sitting for a few moments, he stalked outside to bang a hydrospanner against the hull and take his frustration out on the abused ship.

He sensed the presence of someone standing behind him before they spoke aloud, and his instinct for survival immediately caused his right hand to drop the hydrospanner and move his hand toward his holstered blaster, but it was too late. Han felt a hard poke in his spine, before slowly pulled his fingers away from his own gun, while his captor carefully removed his weapon and backed a safer distance away from the Corellian.

"I need a ship," the intruder stated.

Han could tell by the voice that the person was female, but he knew that didn't make her less dangerous. "So go buy one. This one ain't for sale."

"Let me clarify," the woman continued, unfazed by Han's smart remark. "I want you to take me to Alderaan. From there we will continue to Tatooine and then, finally, we will go to Myrkr."

"That's a pretty long list of destinations," Han spat out. "I hope you plan on paying me."

"You'll get paid – eventually."

Heedless of the blaster, Han spun around to face the woman. The woman had tucked Han's own blaster under her cloak, preventing him from easily trying to retrieve it. He was surprised to see she was quite petite and slender. She was wearing a hood, and her face was obscured by the shadow it cast over her features. Han wished she would pull it back so he could see how old she was, but since she didn't seem inclined to do so he focused on the money issue. "Eventually? That ain't good enough."

"It would be a good idea, Captain Solo, to accept my terms. I'm not a person you want to get on your bad side."

Han pointed at his chest. "Listen, sister, for a trip that long, I want twenty thousand up front. Not a credit less."

The woman's expression became firm. "This blaster is only set on stun, but I'm certain you won't want me to pull the trigger." She slightly lowered the sightline on her blaster, downward from Han's chest. "Do you?"

The Corellian swallowed nervously. "Uh, no."

"Then you'll do as I ask, and take me to Alderaan. Please?"

Han cleared his throat, trying to regain a bit of his composure. "As long as you ask nicely, I guess I can take you to Alderaan." Han felt the urge to take some control of this situation, even if it was only a bluff. "But then I want my money."

"If money is what you love, then that's what you'll receive. You will be duly compensated. Trust me."

"You're pointing a blaster at me, so what choice do I have?"

"I'm glad you can be sensible, Captain. Now be a nice boy and pick up your spanner and demonstrate to me that your reputation for amazing piloting skills is accurate."

Han felt his chest puff with pride, even though he sensed her comment was meant to be a bit sarcastic. "I'm the best pilot you'll ever meet, sweetheart."

"I don't know about that," she replied, somewhat wistfully. "I've known some remarkable pilots in my time."

Once inside the cockpit, the woman carefully sat down in the co-pilot's seat, then pulled the hood away revealing a pretty face with dark brown eyes and long brown hair pulled back in a long braid. Han tried to judge her age, and determined that she was probably in her early forties, but he was wise enough not to come right out and ask. "Can you fly a ship?" Han questioned sharply. "My co-pilot just quit on me."

The woman laughed. "I'm aware of that. Nyett Vecor was offered a cushy, high-paying job on a safe passenger liner."

Han felt his jaw drop. "How do you know?"

"I was the one that arranged for him to receive that job offer," she replied nonchalantly. "It would have been difficult for me to control both of you."

"Even alone, I ain't gonna be easy to control, sweetheart," Han grumbled. "You can't stay awake this entire trip, you know."

"Lucky for you I know a bit about piloting," the woman said, ignoring Han's threat. "Let's get this charming ship of yours going. The Millennium Falcon... isn't that its name?"

"You seem to know a great deal about me. My name, the name of my former co-pilot, the name of my ship…" He moved his fingers deftly across the controls and the engines roared to life.

"I know much more about you than just your name, Captain Solo."

Han's face grew wary. "How do you know so much about me?"

"I have my sources, and they are quite accurate with their facts. Don't worry, though. Most of what I've been told about you is rather positive. If it hadn't been, I wouldn't have decided you were the one to hire."

"Hire, huh? Is that what they're calling hijacking nowadays?" Han angled the ship up, and expertly flew through the tangle of incoming and outgoing ships. The indicator light on the panel flashed, and Han quickly turned it off, commenting, "That was just the Nal Hutta flight controller. Controllers love to control when you can take-off and land. Bunch of busy-bodies if you ask me."

The woman's lips twitched in amusement but she kept her eyes fixed on the viewport, while her fingers tightly gripped the handle of her small blaster.

Little was said for a while and after they entered the swirl of hyperspace, Han rotated in his seat to face the woman, and asked, "How about telling me your name? Seems only right, considering how we're gonna be shipmates for a while with your big itinerary."

Her eyes left the view of the streaking stars and looked at Han. "Fair enough. My name is Padmé."

"No last name?"

"None that is your concern, Captain."

"Why do you want to go to all these places?"

"I have my reasons," Padmé replied. "You'll find out soon enough."

Han sighed. "Why didn't you just hire me like a normal person, instead of kidnapping me?"

"Your fee to take me would've been too high. I can't risk hiring someone else; someone less costly but not as trustworthy."

This comment made Han bristle. "I thought you told me you were gonna pay me."

"I will pay you," she assured him. "But I simply don't have the kind of credits you want upfront, and I was warned that you would ask a high price for your services."

"Who told you I was trustworthy, anyway? Us unsavory sorts don't like to be described as trustworthy you know."

Padmé laughed at that comment. "A mutual acquaintance told me you were trustworthy."

"Are you going to tell me who this mysterious mutual acquaintance is?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"I sorta had a feeling you were going to say that," Han muttered in disgust as he stood up and stretched his tense back. Having a blaster pointed at you was always stressful, Han thought dourly. "Can you cook?"

"No, but I am rather hungry," Padmé admitted, cautiously standing and putting a bit more distance between herself and the lanky smuggler who towered over her short frame. "I was told you know your way around a galley."

Han felt another spike of annoyance that she knew so much about his personal life. He glanced at the blaster she was still pointing in his direction. "Is that an order?"

"Not at all. It was merely a suggestion. I'm hoping that you'll be a gracious host, and offer to make us a meal."

"First I'm trustworthy, and now I'm a gracious host?" Han shook his head in disbelief at her various descriptions regarding his character. "You sure do live in a bizarre version of reality, Padmé."

"You don't know the half of it," she replied lightly.

She followed him into the ship's main hold, being careful to maintain a safe distance, then took a seat at the game table. Han pulled out various pans and ingredients from shelves, turning his head briefly toward his captor. "Anything in particular you want?"

"No. Whatever you make will be just fine." Padmé saw the Corellian's eyes flick toward the blaster in her hand. "What would you do if you got this blaster away from me, Captain? Shoot me? Force me out of an airlock into space?"

"That's a bit extreme," Han drawled. "I'd take you to Alderaan and dump you fifty klicks from the nearest town and make you hike to civilization. I wouldn't feel bad about it, either."

"I'd think not," she replied. "But if you did that, you wouldn't get paid."

"Like that'll ever happen," Han muttered under his breath as he dumped some powdery substance into a bowl and added a blue-tinted liquid before beating the mixture into a thin paste. "Aren't you worried if I do get that blaster, I'll take advantage of a pretty female prisoner?"

"You're not the type," Padmé said firmly. "My friends assured me I would be safe with you, even if something unplanned occurred."

Han immediately picked up on Padmé's remark as he poured a ladle of the goop into a hot pan. "Friends? More than one?"

"Yes, more than one friend. You do make a lasting impression on people, Han Solo."

The Corellian mulled this over as he carefully flipped the thin cake over, and after a few minutes he plated the steaming soft disk onto a dish before placing it in front of the woman. He watched, amused, as Padmé put her blaster on the table and eagerly consumed the hotcake. "Have you eaten lately?"

"I've been too busy," Padmé said between mouthfuls. "This is excellent. What's it called?"

"A Corellian blue-griddlecake," Han replied, pouring some more of the mixture into the pan. After cooking his cake, he sat down across from Padmé and put a forkful into his mouth. He watched her eat the remaining portion of her own food before asking, "You want another one? I've got plenty of batter left."

"I suppose I could stuff down a small one," she replied.

Han stood and reached over toward the plate, then his hand moved quickly, instead grabbing the blaster sitting next to the dish. He turned the business end toward Padmé, grinning at her shocked expression. "Now it's about time you find out just how wrong your sources were about me."

Padmé's face paled as she stared at the blaster which was now pointed in her direction. "So shoot me already," she finally said in a low voice.

"What I want for you to do – very slowly, mind you – is to open up that cloak and give me my own blaster back," Han ordered angrily. "Then I'll decide if I'm gonna shoot you."

Padmé nodded, and obeyed the smuggler's order. Once Han had his own weapon, he removed the powerpack from the woman's blaster before locking it inside a small cabinet. Now pointing his much larger and far more powerful gun at Padmé, he indicated she should stand.

"If you try to force yourself on me, I'll fight you with every ounce of strength I have," Padmé said in a quivering voice, tilting her chin up in defiance.

Han gave a derisive snort. "Or I could stun you, tie you up, and you wouldn't be able to fight me at all."

"Why? Are you afraid you'd lose in a fair fight?" Padmé goaded back.

"Relax, sweetheart. I ain't that kind of guy, so it seems your so-called sources were right about that, at least." He waved his blaster at the plates on the board table. "I cooked, so you clean up. You do know how to put dishes into a recycler, right?"

"I can do that." Keeping one eye trained on Han, she picked up the dishes and put them into the rusty old cleaning unit. "Does this even work anymore?"

"Works as well as the rest of my ship."

Padmé fought back the urge to laugh at that statement. "So what you're saying is we'll be lucky if they get clean?"

"You sure have a smart mouth for a lady with a blaster pointing at her back."

She refrained from making another wisecrack. "All the dishes are in the unit. Now what?"

Han stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I could turn the ship around, head back to Nal Hutta, and sell you to a Hutt. They're always looking for pretty female slaves. That'd make me a tidy bit of money, too."

"You wouldn't dare," she shot back angrily.

"Wouldn't I?" Han returned. "Why don't you sit down, and tell me who these informants are that know so much about me?"

"Is that all you're worried about?"

"Not all, but clearing that up would make me feel a lot better," Han replied. "Talk, or I really won't take you to Alderaan."

"If I tell you, will you take me to Alderaan?" Padmé asked. "And then to Tatooine and Myrkr?"

Han rolled his eyes at her persistence. "If the price is right."

"I was told about your character from a few friends of mine. A freedom fighter named Garm Bel Iblis, and a smuggler named Talon Karrde." She seemed about to add something – or someone - else, but pressed her lips together suddenly as if she changed her mind.

Still, the two names she revealed took Han aback. "Senator Bel Iblis? Captain Karrde? How in the Nine Hells do you know those people?"

"I've been employed by Captain Karrde as one of his crew for several years now. Garm has also been a friend for some time."

"Garm Bel Iblis is still alive and kicking?" Han asked suspiciously. "So those rumors about him giving the Imps a pain in the backside are true, then."

"That's what the Imperials claim," Padmé said evasively.

"Karrde sure wouldn't get involved with something as useless as a war against the Empire," Han mused aloud. "He's like all of us smugglers – watching out for his own hide."

"People change, Captain. Opinions change, too."

Suddenly, Han felt a flash of insight. "You're one of those Rebels," he declared tightly. "And Karrde's playing the hero, too?"

Seeming a little reluctant to admit this, she stated, "Yes."

"Why involve me?"

"I needed a small, fast ship and a pilot that was able, brave and willing to take on the Empire. Both Talon and Garm mentioned your name."

Han gave a short laugh. "They said I was willing to take on the Empire? Did they happen to mention I ain't interested in suicide?"

"Senator Bel Iblis believes you have much more potential than simply living a life of a petty smuggler, barely staying one step ahead of starvation. Captain Karrde thinks you're one of the best pilots alive. It was enough to recommend you." She gave a pleading smile. "I'm not expecting you to do this for free, Captain."

"What's on Alderaan?"

"Who is on Alderaan is more to the point. There is a person on that system I need to help me with my mission," Padmé replied.

"And Tatooine?"

"The same."

Han shook his head in dismay. "More Rebels, I suppose."

Padmé gave a wan smile. "I'd describe them more as Rebel recruits. I have faith they'll join the cause."

"Who's on Myrkr?"

"It's Captain Karrde's base of operations," Padme explained patiently. "So, what's your decision? It's a simple job, really."

"Who's gonna pay me?" Han demanded to know. "I know a something about Karrde and Bel Iblis myself. Neither one has a lot of credits to throw around."

"Prince Bail Organa has a large sum of money at his disposal," Padme said, closely watching Han's reaction.

"Huh? You're tellin' me Prince Organa is your Rebel recruit? I don't believe it."

"No, he's not the person I'm going to recruit on Alderaan, but I do know him and I know he will pay you." When she saw Han's look of doubt, she added, "Do you understand now why I simply couldn't tell you all this upfront, and ask to hire your services? You would not have believed me, and it appears you still don't."

"I'm having a hard time understanding how you work for a smuggler, yet claim to know rich royalty personally. It doesn't add up."

"Many beings of different stations in life are working together to overthrow the Empire's repression. Maybe, years ago, a smuggler becoming acquainted with a former senator and a prince would have been unheard of, but not under today's dire circumstances. Everyone, from all races and classes, must work together to defeat the evil that has descended upon the galaxy."

Han frowned at her grand speech. "Are you sure you're not a politician instead of a smuggler?"

The question flustered her. "No…no. I'm sorry, Captain. I just get carried away sometimes."

Although Han still felt more than a little bit suspicious about her story, the mere possibility that she truly knew a rich prince made him envision mounds of credits piled at his feet. It was enough to make his heart race in anticipation. "Okay. You've got yourself a pilot for all three destinations. But I still ain't throwing myself in front of an Imperial Destroyer for you or your rebel friends, so don't expect anything other than a straightforward business deal." He holstered his blaster and waved a finger in her face. "And no more pointing weapons at me."

"I won't do that again." Padmé stood up and threw her arms around Han, giving him a warm hug. "Thank you, Captain. I'll never be able to repay you."

The Corellian drew away from the embrace, obviously uncomfortable with the display of affection. "Your prince friend better come up with a way, sister," he groused.

"He will," Padmé promised, feeling a stab of guilt over the many important details she was omitting from her story. But the Corellian would undoubtedly decide the job ferrying her around wouldn't be worth taking if he knew the complete truth, and Padmé needed his help too much to scare him away at this point.

Alderaan

Padmé leaned forward, peering eagerly out of the cockpit window at the clean, bustling spaceport. "We'll need to leave our blasters on the ship," she stated. "Alderaan has strict rules – civilians cannot carry either open or concealed weapons."

The Corellian shook his head in disagreement. "I don't go anywhere without my blaster. 'Sides, rules are made to be broken."

The woman turned to give a firm look at Han. "I can't take that kind of a risk, Han. This mission is far too important." Seeing his stubborn expression, she added, "I can go alone if you're so dead-set against being unarmed."

"We've already discussed that," Han returned. "I don't trust you'll come back with my money."

"You are a very suspicious person, Captain."

"I'm still alive because I'm cautious," Han shot back as he stood up from his pilot's seat.

"You'll be arrested in a heartbeat if you walk out of this ship with that blaster tied to your leg," Padmé warned.

Han shrugged. "So I'll leave my DL-44 onboard. But I'm still wearing my holdout under my vest, and my vibroblade in my boot."

"Suspicious and paranoid."

"Cautious and prepared," Han corrected her with a cocky grin.

Sighing, Padmé gave up her argument. "We'll rent a landspeeder and head over to the palace. Once we get there, let me do all the talking." She rose from her seat and jabbed her finger in Han's chest for emphasis. "ALL the talking. Do you understand?"

"Sure," Han said amicably. "I hope you don't think I'm paying for the speeder rental."

It took a great deal of Padmé's willpower not to slug the exasperating Corellian. "I'll pay for the rental cost, you, you… impertinent plebian!" Giving a puff of breath to blow a strand of hair from her forehead, she pushed past and stalked off down the corridor.

"Impertinent plebian?" Han yelled in outrage at her retreating back. "I don't think I like the sound of that, an' I ain't buying a dictionary, either!"

"That's the Organa palace," Padmé pointed out somewhat unnecessarily, since the imposing building with flag-covered spiraled peaks covered several city blocks, and was surrounded by an imposing stone wall with guarded, wrought-iron gates.

"What do we do now? Shoot the guards? Storm the gates?"

Padmé scowled at Han. "I shall not permit violence."

"I'd like to know what kind of rebel you are anyway, if you don't believe in violence. You can't win wars by throwing a kaff and cake party for the enemy."

"Just find a spot to park, and I'll think of something," Padmé ordered.

Han looked dubious, but did as she asked. They walked up to the gate, and Padmé gave a glowing smile at the Royal Guard, who smiled back, seemingly pleased by the attention of the beautiful woman. "Hello, sir," Padmé said boldly. "My name is Clare D'Loon, and this is my, err, partner, Gizzie Feeblebane. We're here to see Tia Organa regarding the upcoming, very prestigious Professional Aldra Pitten Show, presented by Yuckynewbia Pet Foods, which is the only pet food recommended by certified veterinarians employed by Yuckynewbia." When the guard only gazed down at Padmé in confusion, she added, "Will you give her a call, please? I'm certain she'll want to see me. I'm a judge in the show."

"And what's this guy do?" the guard asked, giving his head a jerk in Han's direction. "Another judge?"

"Oh, no! Gizzie's a professional pitten groomer. The best in the business."

The guard scratched his head, uncertain what to do. He knew how much Princess Tia adored her pittens, and if he turned away someone she was expecting… "I don't see any pitten grooming equipment."

"The equipment is in my pants," Han deadpanned, his expression daring the guard to check him further.

"Uh, okay," the guard finally decided, and pressed in a series of numbers on the computer panel. A woman's shrill voice answered, and the guard warily spoke to her about the visitors. Han could easily hear the woman's excited response over the small speaker, ordering the guard to allow them to enter. Padmé gave a smug look of triumph toward Han.

"Well, you can enter," the guard finally said, picking up a small, handheld device. "But I'll have to scan you for weapons before you go inside."

Padmé's jaw tightened, frustration flickering across her face. "Scan us? Like we're common criminals? Do you know who I am? CLARE D'LOON! The galaxy renowned pure-bred pitten judge! I may just have to leave, and find some other, more deserving rich person to sit on our fine panel of pitten judges."

She turned to march away, and Han watched as the worried guard hurried to catch up and prevent her from leaving. With the guard's back to him, Han removed his holdout blaster and vibroblade, quickly tossing them over the gate and into a well-manicured bush on the other side. He waited for the guard to convince Padmé to return to the gate, then said, "Darling, just let the guard scan us. You know he won't find a thing, honeypot."

If Padmé looked annoyed before, she appeared ready to explode now. "Fine," she ground out slowly, glaring first at Han then turning her wrath on the trembling guard. "But if you so much as lay one finger on my body, I'll…"

"I won't touch you, ma'am," the guard interrupted, his shaking hand first running the scanner up and down in front of Padmé's torso, then Han's. "You're all clear." He opened the gate, stepping aside to allow the strangers to enter. "Follow the main drive, then ring the buzzer. A protocol droid will allow you inside the palace, and take you directly to Princess Tia Organa's suite."

"I should hope so," Padmé said huffily. "Although I should have been escorted by her personal aide, and not some droid. This is the last time Clare D'Loon will be bothered with the Organas' pittens!"

"I'm sorry," the guard yelled after the pair as they hustled down the driveway. "Please don't have me fired!"

Han grinned at Padmé. "How long did you have this planned?"

"A minute prior to speaking to the guard," she admitted reluctantly as she climbed the steps to the main doorway.

"Great job," Han said in approval. "I gotta admit I'm starting to have fun. But a pitten groomer? Why did you have to come up with that job?"

"Tia Organa loves her pittens. What else could you be?"

"Something more impressive," Han said. "You could have made me president of Yuckynewbia Pet Foods.'

Padmé eyed Han up and down, then pressed the buzzer next to the door. "I don't think so. And Han?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever call me 'darling' or 'honeypot' again, or I'll have to hurt you."