Bundle of Joy
The mechanical whirring of dozens of Imperial speeders echoed around the nearly deserted city streets of Dikai, as Han Solo crept warily down one of its darkest alleys. The narrow, smelly, litter-strewn passage was one of many such dubious and dangerous gaps that separated one towering, mostly abandoned high-rise building from another. Reaching a dilapidated door, Han eased his way through it and into the corridor beyond, then paused for a moment with his back against the wall. He held his breath, listening intently as he gave his eyes time to adjust to the dim light.
Like so many of the structures in this once-thriving city, the old apartment building had seen better days. The planet Ulruth had long been a major manufacturing site for land speeders and other motorized forms of transport used throughout the galaxy, before the Empire took control of the factories and retrofitted them to produce AT-ATs, 74-Z speeder bikes and other vehicular armaments. In the process, thousands of sentient workers had been replaced with droids. Jobless and despondent, most of Dikai's inhabitants had fled the city center, transforming the once-thriving industrial metropolis into a virtual ghost town.
With his back pressed against the chipped and peeling paint, Han crept his way along the wall, keeping his eyes keen for any signs of life in and around the shabby corridor. At a unit marked 454E he paused again, his right hand tightening on the grip of his DL-44 as he reached out with his left and nudged the door ajar.
Eerie flashes of electronic blue light and the droning voice of a holonews reporter filtered out from the gap. It seemed the apartment dwellers—or, more likely, recent looters—had not turned off the media unit before they had abandoned the premises.
With the toe of one booted foot, Han pushed against the splintered wooden door with a bit more force. The aging hinges groaned, and the door swung creakily inward to provide him with a wider view into a disheveled room. He rounded the edge of the frame stealthily, eyes and ears sharp to ascertain if any sentient beings were present. After a few minutes of cautious survey, he turned his head and called out, "All clear."
A moment later, a slender figure clad in a dark, hooded robe slipped inside the apartment and closed the door behind her.
"Looks like they were in a rush to go," Leia Organa breathed out as she threw back her hood and surveyed the clutter-filled dwelling.
"More likely been ransacked after they left," Han mused as he rifled through items piled haphazardly atop a kaffe table. "Always somebody hopin' to make a fast credit by combin' through what others leave behind. There's a black market for most anything."
"Seems like the only thing of value here is the holovision," Leia acknowledged. "I guess it's too difficult to move." She sighed heavily as she scanned the untidy space. "I hope we can find the instructions in this mess."
"So remind me, what're we lookin' for? Could you read the message again?"
"Yes, just a moment," Leia reached into her pocket and pulled forth a ragged flimsy, then frowned down at it as she read aloud. "Congratulations! We've an instructional parenting guide for you that targets the key things you should know. Enjoy the subtle weave of the receiving blanket, but mind the care instructions so it is not destroyed during cleansing, to insure that the innocent one remains safe and happy. Both items await you on your next visit. Excited for your bundle of joy to arrive."
She looked up at Han and raised her shoulders in question. "It is rather odd," she admitted.
Messages from Rebellion spies were always enigmatic, and often deliberately vague or convoluted to avoid Imperial detection of the real meaning if intercepted. The Dikai operative clearly did not have access to an encrypted comm system, so words with double-meanings had been used instead, and then the seemingly innocuous message had been distributed via traditional communication methods to other Alliance contacts who had the ability to pass the information along. There was no way to request clarification from the author, so they would just have to figure it out.
"Okay, so we're lookin' for a blanket and it sound like maybe a book of some kind," Han said. "He probably encrypted the coordinates for the factories in them somehow."
"It's all we have to go on, but it seems straightforward enough," Leia muttered as she began sifting through papers, clothing and household items mounded on the shabby sofa.
"What the hell is a 'receiving' blanket, anyway?" Han wondered aloud as he picked through a pile of holozines and knick knacks precariously stacked on a bookshelf.
"It's a small wrap used to swaddle a newborn," Leia explained. "Although I don't know what the word 'receiving' refers to. I don't know that much about new babies, actually, apart from the basic equipment they require: diapers, bottles and, I guess...plenty of blankets." She dropped her gaze to the array of goods strewn about the floor—a tangled mess of items of the type she'd just mentioned, as well as an assortment of adult and baby clothing, housewares and toys. "From the looks of the things left behind, our contact must have an infant."
Han recognized the wistful note in the princess' voice. It was clear from her tone that her thoughts were drifting to how much courage it must have taken for their Rebel ally to risk his life, and that of his family. They might never learn of the contact's fate or why they'd left the coded information behind, but nonetheless Han acknowledged the risk they'd taken in service of the Alliance.
"I'm sure they're okay," he reassured. "We'd have heard somethin' by now if they'd been caught, right? With so many leavin' here, I doubt the Empire would pay any mind to one young family headin' out. Not many left in town, except for a thousand or so workin' the civilian speeder works."
Han frowned, thinking about how low Dikai had fallen since the Empire had taken control. The city had once been widely admired by technophiles—himself included—for its production of quality transportation products, and for its equitable treatment of workers. It had once enjoyed a much-deserved reputation for excellence in every respect, galaxy-wide. But not anymore; not since the Imps had commandeered the manufacturing plants, and pure profit, rather than fairness or value, had become the priority.
He stooped to rifle through another pile of items stacked beside an overturned chair, and his mood changed from gruff to gleeful as he seized upon a thick, well-worn book. "Well, that was easy!" he crowed. "At least, I think this must be it. Heads up."
He straightened and tossed the tome to Leia, who was kneeling on the floor sifting through towels and bedding that the former owners must have deemed superfluous to their escape. She grunted lightly when she caught the weighty book.
"The Galaxy's Guide to Parenting - Raising Your Child From Conception Through College - Humanoid Edition," she read aloud from the cover.
"That seems like the right kind of book, doesn't it?" Han said.
He watched as the princess began flipping through the pages, as though she expected an object—a holodisc or a scrap of flimsy, perhaps—to be secreted in the leaves. Finding nothing on the first pass, she reopened the old-fashioned book and started turning carefully page by page. It took only a few moments before she let out a cry of success.
"Look," she called to Han. "Don't these look like coordinates to you?"
Han closed the distance between them and, as she held the book aloft for his perusal, glimpsed down at the handwritten notes on the inside of the cover page. First Trimester, it read, and then Second and Third, each heading with a different set of numbers jotted beneath.
"Very clever." Leia's voice was filled with pride for the cunning of the Rebel operative. "These must be coded coordinates for the location of three of the factories. Now all we need to do is find that blanket. It must identify the civilian speeder works location."
"Yeah," Han agreed. "And we need to do that in time to get out of here before curfew."
He slanted a glance at his chrono with a frown. They were running out of time before the streets were closed to civilian traffic, as they were every evening in Dikai. It didn't help matters that they had been dropped off at the wrong location by a disinterested speeder cab driver, and consequently spent more than two standard hours searching for the correct address. As the unmistakable high-pitched whir of an Imperial police speeder filtered up from the street below, Han shot Leia a perturbed look.
"Don't start," she warned. "I don't need to hear again how you wanted your own transport for this. It wasn't feasible."
He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he had the chance. "Besides, it will be fun to see Luke and the Rogues again," she said, and then turned her attention once more to winnowing through the heap of fabrics on the floor. "What's it been? Three months since we were all together?"
"Don't try and sugar coat it, Sweetheart," Han harrumphed. "This has been a pain in the ass and we're not out of here yet. I'd feel better if Chewie and the Falcon were waitin' at the Med Center docking bay. Bad enough we had to take the hospital shuttle filled with snot-nosed kids and germy old folks to get here."
"The Falcon is becoming too well known to fly safely into Empire-controlled territory, even with fake transponder codes, and you know it. The Rogues' borrowed ship will blend in with everyone else coming here for medical care." Leia shook her head in dismissal of her mission partner's grousing, and continued instead to yank on the corner of a messenger bag that was half-buried under a pile of pillows.
The bag wasn't latched, and as she gave it a final, hard tug and pulled it free, its contents spilled out and she gave a joyful chirp.
"Got it!" She brandished a small blanket in her hand, and began waving it in circles above her head.
"Sure that's it?" Han crouched down on one knee beside her. Leia worked the soft cover through her fingers, seeking the care instruction tag sewn into a corner. There, as the flimsy foretold, was another set of coordinates neatly printed on the underside of the tag.
Leia beamed up at Han. "Let's roll, Flyboy!" But her gorgeous smile faded as the sound of curfew sirens began to blare from the street.
"Fuck," Han muttered. "Too late."
"No!" Leia said emphatically. "The Rogues' docking reservation ends at midnight. We can still make it, but we need to find a way to the hospital now."
"And just how are we supposed to do that, Your Worship? In about ten minutes, the final alarm will sound and then the Imp cops'll be roaming the streets, shootin' anything that moves."
"I'm not sure, but we'll figure something out," she replied as she folded the blanket and began stuffing it into the messenger bag along with the book. But something was preventing the items from lying flat inside the worn leather pouch. Leia's delicate fingers delved inside and a moment later she pulled out a small, plush toy pitten. Its purple ears were faded and worn, probably the result of being used as a teething baby's chew toy.
"Someone is missing this," she sighed, holding the pitten up and stroking its soft belly with her thumb.
"All right, all right," Han grabbed the toy from her and shoved it into the bag that now held the book and blanket. "Don't get all blubbery."
"I am not blubbery, you Nerf!" she snapped. "Have you no empathy for that baby and its parents? They obviously took a huge risk for the Rebellion and now they're—"
"I ain't sayin' that, Princess," Han interjected placatingly. "Just don't see how a baby toy is gonna get us out of thi…wait a minute." He abruptly stopped complaining as a plan began to take shape in his mind. He began to rummage through the items on a nearby table, tossing the useless ones with disregard to the floor.
"What are you looking for?" Leia queried.
"Thought I saw some packing tape around here."
"You mean this?" Leia queried as she unearthed a large roll of heavy-duty tape and handed it to him. "What's your idea?"
"We're going to the hospital," he said with a smug grin.
She cast him a wary look. "And we're avoiding the Imperial police, how?"
"We ain't," he smiled down at her. "They're gonna take us there."
"Are you insane?" Leia cried. "Just how are you expecting…"
"That's exactly it, Princess. Expecting." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "We're having a baby, Sweetheart. Right now."
"Oh. Oh, no. Nooooo," Leia's brown eyes widened and she shook her braided head in refusal.
"C'mon, just a bit of play actin'," Han nudged her shoulder. "No different than any other—."
"I am NOT willingly climbing into an Imperial police speeder pretending to be…."
"The mother of my child?" Han winked.
"Who said it's yours," Leia tossed back with a sour smile, although Han thought he glimpsed a spark of amusement dancing in her eyes.
"Ha!" he crowed. "So, we're doing this!"
"No, we're not."
"Listen, Sweetheart, it's either that or we miss the rendezvous with the Rogues."
Leia sighed.
Fifteen minutes later and with a bit of help from the princess, Han had managed to construct a sizable baby bump from a pillowcase packed with soft towels that were wrapped around his blaster rig—the Imp cops were sure to take that from him, anyway, if they spotted it. The mound had been secured with layers of packing tape wrapped around Leia's petite figure. A flowing, floral maternity dress that they'd pulled from a stack of discarded clothing completed the look. The original owner of the garment had obviously been taller than the diminutive princess; its lower hem fell nearly to the floor—but that was a good thing, since it covered the rest of Leia's utilitarian outfit and her sturdy but somewhat incongruous boots.
As he stepped back to admire his handiwork, Han did his best to ignore the glare he could feel coming from Leia's eyes. He moved toward her and placed both hands on her "bump," tugging lightly to see that the tape was holding. To his surprise, the sight of her like this was affecting in a strange, visceral way. He had often fantasized about the woman who stood before him, imagining so many scenarios, states of undress and romantic situations, but nothing had ever taken him aback quite like this—nor created the fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach—as seeing her in this guise. He half expected Leia to complain, or to begin spewing caustic remarks non-stop. But she was unusually quiet...and he could have sworn she was blushing.
"Well," Leia asked, interrupting his thoughts. Raising her arms above her head, she turned about in a tight circle. "How do I look?"
"Beautiful," he murmured, his reverent gaze taking in her new form.
Leia's eyes widened in surprise.
He coughed, and then added with a dose of bluster, "I think that'll do it. You definitely look knocked up."
With a roll of her eyes at his choice of words, Leia swiveled around and then headed towards the cracked mirror that was mounted on one wall.
Gazing at herself in the mirror, the petite Alderaani's eyes widened at the sight of her disguised body. She fell silent for a few moments as she turned from side to side to view her reflection from all angles. She looked pensive, almost sentimental, as though the sight of herself like this was something she had never expected to see. The expression was fleeting, though; within a few seconds, her playful grin had returned, and she turned to him with a wry snort.
"Did you have to make me look so huge?" she asked, as she ran her hands along her sides and over the swell of her stomach.
"I've got a big blaster," Han smirked, "and I needed a place to hide it. You're welcome, by the way."
"Thank you ever so much," she returned, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"And besides," he said with a grin. "Corellian babies are notoriously large and heavy at birth, so it's only…."
Leia scowled and shot him a hot glare. "It is NOT a Corellian baby!"
"My idea," Han fired back. "My baby."
Leia's gaze turned withering. "This had better work," she warned.
"It will."
"I don't know," Leia said, turning back to gaze at her reflection once more. She ran her hand over the mound and then gave it a light pat. "I have a bad feeling about this."