Authors' notes: This started out as a joke; a feeble little backlash against the hideous and pathetic only child given to Han and Leia by the current official canon. We'll give 'em seven kids, we said in defiance. All girls. All completely bad-ass. Somebody mentioned "Solo Sand Snakes" and then it was on. (Hey, the book Snakes, okay, not the show Snakes.)
Anyway…that was in August 2016. It turns out that seven daughters was a few too many to wrangle and it stretched the plausibility just a bit too far, even for us. But we reckon the kids that did make it into this fic would kick Darth Whiny's skinny arse any day (after they've grown up a little, of course).
Warnings: This is, we think, a fairly light-hearted fic but there are nevertheless features that some may wish to avoid, such as adult themes; use of alcohol; imprisonment; suggestion of non-con; mild violence; language; and a healthy measure of sibling bickering, backtalk, and sass from teenage Solos.
Also: Needless to say, this is completely AU. No Disney canon. No Legends/EU canon. And this is just one version of events. It doesn't necessarily represent fixed headcanon for any of us. We're just playin' around. ;)
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Chapter 1: Tal
Tal Solo lounged in her seat at the bar, absently swirling the deep amber liquid in her glass as she casually scanned the crowded cantina. The Greasy Gears was a small establishment but, despite its name, one that seemed to be marginally cleaner and slightly more reputable than most of the other bars along the strip. Given its position in downtown Thani, the bustling capital city of the planet Telos, it typically attracted a wide range of clientele from across the galaxy, and tonight was no exception. The dimly lit interior was buzzing with an eclectic assemblage of human, humanoid, and utterly alien species whose voices were raised in convivial cacophony over the lively background music. To Tal's delight, most appeared to be engrossed in recapping the details of the local swoop racing championship that was currently in full swing on the outskirts of the city. As the winner of the initial round in her division, Tal kept one ear cocked to the discussions for any mention of her name, smiling to herself whenever she overheard patrons debating whether she was bound to go all the way. Tal knew she was going to go all the way—straight to the top, and no one could stop her—but it gave her a little thrill of pleasure to hear her merits discussed by fans and fellow racers alike. In this part of the Kwymar Sector, at least, she could use her real surname without being automatically associated with the father who had bequeathed it—a man whose status as a racing legend was surpassed only by his reputation as a hero of the long-ago Galactic Civil War. Although Tal's face wasn't well-known yet, she was starting to make a name for herself here on the Outer Rim and, for once in her life, her name was her own.
The rectangular central bar where she sat was occupied on all four sides by a variety of sentients, including a pair of green-skinned Rodians immersed in intense discussion, a sleepy-eyed Ithorian male, and a Twi'lek couple whose limbs, lips and lekku were entwined and writhing together in ways that made Tal's eyebrows climb, given the public setting. Glancing away from the display, she saw three or four shadier types inhabiting the darker corners of the cantina, likely doing a brisk business accepting off-track wagers on the series of races scheduled for the following day. Allowing her gaze to roam as she sipped her drink, Tal's attention was drawn to a booth at the back of the tavern, where a group of young human and humanoid males sat huddled around a table crowded with various bottles and half-empty glasses. They all appeared to be a year or two older than Tal, and to her appraising eye they ran the gamut from boyishly cute to ruggedly handsome. Although two or three were garbed in racing gear similar to Tal's own, the rest looked like university types; probably students of the nearby East Thani University. She ignored their boisterous challenges to each other, keeping a casual eye on the news holo running above the bar as she toyed with the rivulets of condensation that trickled down her glass.
Watching the clear drops of water pool in a ring around the base, Tal considered her own university ambitions—or rather, the complete lack thereof. Though she'd been eligible for a place at Coruscant University after leaving school, and although her parents had urged her to take it, Tal had a wanderlust too powerful to make academia very attractive, at least in the short-term. She hadn't dismissed the possibility of returning to Coruscant to recommence her studies at some future date but, for now, she was having the time of her life. The excitement of exploring the galaxy on her own for the first time was one element of that, and the ancient little RZ-1 she'd salvaged—with considerable assistance from her father and both uncles—was holding up well. But it was really the thrill of swoop racing that drove Tal to travel from system to system, following the circuit and registering for increasingly prestigious competitions as her reputation grew. So far, she reflected with deep satisfaction, her decision to pursue a racing career had paid off, both figuratively and literally. Not only was her star on the rise, but she'd just filled her accounts with enough credits to see her through until the season opener on Agamar, with perhaps a little bit left over for a few upgrades to her swoop bike. Smiling to herself at that thought, Tal had just lifted the squat glass tumbler to her lips for another sip of whiskey when a shadow fell across her vision, and a smooth male voice drifted to her ear.
"My buddies bet me that I wouldn't be able to start a conversation with the most beautiful girl in the bar."
Tal sipped in silence for a beat longer, then lowered her glass and tipped her head back slightly to meet the eyes of the tall human who'd just squeezed into the gap between herself and the next patron, and was now gazing at her with wary anticipation. She recognized him as one of the guys from the university crowd in the back booth, and was gratified to see she'd attracted one of the ruggedly handsome variety. No baby face here, she noted with approval, as the suntanned young man leaned one elbow on the bar and gave her a crooked smile, his deep-set eyes twinkling expectantly. A shadow of a few days' growth of dark beard peppered his square jaw and angular chin, and his nose had a slight but intriguing slant—but his eyes, Tal decided, were definitely his best feature; she lingered there for a moment, admiring the rich mosaic of rust, ochre and grey, rimmed in dark green. Allowing her gaze to flicker downwards, she decided that the rest of him wasn't half-bad, either. His lean, solid torso was clad in a padded leather racer's jacket over a white button-down shirt, which was loosely tucked into khaki trousers, and he wore tall leather boots of the type favoured by racers and spacers alike. Tal's gaze drifted back up again, noting how the fingers of one broad hand toyed idly with a pair of pilot's gloves tucked into his belt.
"They wagered that a girl like you wouldn't give a guy like me the time of day," the stranger continued, leaning in a little closer.
Tal caught the masculine scent of the fragrance he wore, mingled with a familiar trace of swoop exhaust. He ran a hand through his dark hair, the close-cropped strands sticking up in a half-dozen different—and very charming—directions, and then flashed a grin that was clearly designed to melt Tal's resolve in a heartbeat.
Not bad, she thought. Kinda hot, actually. And I've certainly heard worse pickup lines today….
Ordinarily, she surmised, this guy's approach probably served him well; he'd certainly captured her attention, even with his cheesy overture. But Tal was no simpering trackside girl, easily seduced by a winning smile and simple flattery. Now coming to the end of her second year on the circuit, she'd had a few hundred attractive beings from dozens of worlds try to win her over with that sort of roguish charm, but she'd never been particularly impressed by it. The unique circumstances of her upbringing had required her to learn at an early age how to deftly and politely deter the advances of many a charming, wealthy and powerful admirer. Those were lessons she'd had in abundance from her mother, and she'd learned them well. From her father, she'd learned a few less polite but more practical methods for discouraging over-eager suitors. Those methods—a pair of BlasTech DL-11 blaster pistols—were tucked into custom-made holsters, snugged against her ribs on both sides, and concealed beneath her short leather jacket. Eyeing her new companion with a thoughtful half-smile, she decided she probably wouldn't need them—not yet, anyway.
"Whaddaya say?" the stranger prompted, lowering his voice an octave, despite the clamor of the cantina. "Wanna buy some drinks with their credits?" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his erstwhile companions.
Tal pursed her lips in a show of mock concentration as she considered his offer. A triumphant day like today would ordinarily have been enough for her; she'd ruled the track, and she was still buzzing with the endorphin rush she always experienced after a victory. She certainly didn't need anyone else to give her an ego boost; she'd done that all by herself. But she enjoyed the teasing back-and-forth of casual flirtation, and she could keep up with the best when she felt so inclined. And at the moment, she did feel somewhat inclined. She was bored and—if she were being completely honest with herself—more than a little lonely. The tall stranger cocked an eyebrow up and his grin went even wider as his remarkable hazel eyes scanned her face.
Hooo boy, Tal thought wryly. You'd be fun. Maybe a bit too much fun. But what the hell.
"Sure," she shrugged. "Why not?" Tal uncrossed her legs and swivelled to face him, making a show of meeting his gaze and addressing him directly, for the benefit of his friends who might be watching.
"I should probably introduce myself," he noted, drawing his hand up in the narrow space between them to offer a handshake. "I'm Maiko Bradis, from Salik City on Toprawa."
"Tal," she replied, favoring him with a faint smile as she briefly clasped his warm hand. She'd thought his chiselled features looked vaguely familiar, but she realized exactly who he was as soon as she heard the name. She was surprised she hadn't recognized him immediately, having seen his visage featured alongside hers many times, on holonet reports of results and standings. Maiko Bradis was a fellow swoop racer, a former junior champ who was now moving up the leagues just as she was, with the promise of an outstanding future ahead. Things just got a little more interesting, she thought.
"Just 'Tal'?" Bradis queried mildly, offering her an opportunity to be more forthcoming. "Nothing else?"
"'Tal' will do for now," she told him, tucking a wayward lock of her short dark hair behind one ear. She was not a big fan of her full given name; it sounded like some sort of flower. In fact, it was actually the name of a flower from her mother's homeworld. Her father had chosen it for that reason, and because it contained an echo of her mother's name. Nevertheless, she'd ditched that version of herself a long time ago, favouring the shorter nickname and flatly ignoring anyone who addressed her otherwise. Tal loved her mother dearly, but she was certainly no flower. Her failure to supply Maiko Bradis with her surname, though, was pure habit; she'd forgotten for a moment that she was far away from the Core Worlds, where the mere mention of it would draw the sort of attention she'd never craved, and didn't want. Tal reached for her glass and then took another sip of whiskey.
"Short and sweet," Maiko grinned amiably. "Suits you."
Inwardly, Tal bristled. At just a smidgen over one and a half meters tall, and very slightly built, she was accustomed to endless gibes about her diminutive size, mainly because she had three younger sisters—as well as one older—who had all long ago surpassed her in height. Even the youngest, at fourteen, towered over her these days, which was a source of continual exasperation for Tal. Although she knew she was...well, tiny...she didn't especially like being reminded of it. She was also more than a little nonplussed to hear herself referred to as sweet. Bradis was a very good-looking guy, and he was undoubtedly a talented racer, but she didn't tolerate that type of condescension from anyone, least of all from someone she'd only just met. As she opened her mouth to correct his perception, though, she saw his jaw drop and his eyes widen in recognition.
"You're Tal Solo," he said, his voice rising a little before he recovered his composure. He smiled warmly. "I know you."
Reflexively, Tal stiffened, bracing herself for the usual barrage of comments about her famous family, but then grinned when Bradis clapped his hands together and said in a tone of amazed surprise, "You're the hotshot who bumped me off the track, just after the second turn in the qualifiers on Manaan a couple months back." He shook his head, incredulous. "Those were some slick moves. You hit every single boost pad and blew through that course; I've never seen anything like it. That was so impressive to watch, I almost didn't mind losing."
Pleased by Maiko's recognition of her from the racing circuit and gratified by his praise, Tal swiftly forgave his earlier transgression. She gave him a smirk and jingled the ice in her nearly empty glass as a reminder of the wager. "Didn't you say something about drinks? This glass isn't going to refill itself."
His face lit with a broad smile. "I'll get right on that. Let me guess...Corellian whiskey, right?"
Tal nodded. "And since they're buying," she said, indicating Maiko's friends with a slight inclination of her head, "make it a Whyren's."
"You got it," Maiko grinned, then turned away to gesture for the bartender.
Idly, Tal turned her attention to one of several holovision screens positioned around the cantina. There was one fixed to the wall about four meters to her left, just a little above eye level from her current position. She grimaced a little at the images she saw there, realizing almost immediately that the holo was on the wrong channel for galactic sports results. Then she blinked, wondering if that last whiskey had gone straight to her head. She rubbed her eyes and then squinted.
Yes, those were definitely her parents on the screen.
She smiled faintly, feeling a wistful little twinge in her gut. Seeing her mother and father on the transgalactic news was not a novel experience—not at all. They were both highly visible public figures who had long been active in the political and military spheres of galactic government. But she hadn't actually seen her parents in person in almost four months, and the sight of their faces gave her an unexpected pang of homesickness. She wondered why they were being featured on that particular broadcast, though, which looked to be coming from one of the regional entertainment channels.
Swivelling on her stool, Tal braced one hand against the bar and leaned forward a little, straining to hear the holocast's audio above the noise of the music and conversation. A trio of Sullustan bar patrons crossed between Tal's position and the screen, and then stopped in exactly the wrong place to have a chat, obscuring her view entirely. With an impatient huff, she swivelled the other way, tilting her head back for a better view of the vidpanel above the bar. She couldn't help but smile again at the sight of those familiar and beloved faces on the screen; the montage being shown covered a long span of time—over thirty years—and although many of the images had been taken a full decade before she was born, Tal had seen them all a million times before. Her mother, dressed in elegant white, looking round-faced and impossibly young, smiling up at Tal's father, sun-bronzed and handsome in his prime, with a golden medal hung around his neck. The next image showed them with their arms slung around each other, standing amidst a crowd of furry Ewoks and friends, with triumphant grins plastered on their youthful faces. A number of other familiar images followed, including some of Tal and her sisters when they were kids, but Tal's attention was snagged by the string of Aurebesh text that was now scrolling across the bottom of the screen. Her eyes widened as she read the script, and then she felt her stomach drop, the way it sometimes did when she was racing, topped a rise too fast, and then plummeted down the other side, a little out of control. She blinked at the text, feeling a hot flush rising up from her chest to her throat, creeping higher still until her cheeks felt like they were burning. She straightened on her stool and then leaned her forearms on the bar, nudging Maiko Bradis out of the way with her elbow, just as the bartender arrived with their drinks.
"Hey, can you turn up the volume on that holo," Tal urged, gesturing above their heads to the vidscreen.
The barkeep, a pink-skinned Zeltron female with indigo hair piled high in a messy knot, simply gazed at her with a blank expression as she set the drinks down on the bar. "Sorry, what?" she asked, raising her voice to carry over the noise of the crowd.
"Turn it up," Tal repeated, almost shouting. She jabbed a finger at the holo, then jerked her thumb upward. "Up," she said, mouthing the word in an exaggerated manner. "Please," she added belatedly, sinking back onto her stool as the barkeep nodded and turned away.
Beside her, Maiko Bradis pivoted in her direction, then lifted her drink from the bar and offered it to her. She was aware of him trying to catch her eye again, but she barely glanced in his direction as she accepted the glass with muttered thanks, and then turned her attention once more upwards to the vidscreen. The segment was evidently drawing to an end, but the volume swelled just in time for her to catch the last of the transmission. The human female newscaster had a voice so nasal and a tone so oily, Tal found it difficult to believe she'd been hired to perform such a role. Even worse, her voice was practically dripping with pity, laid on so thick it would've been insulting even if it hadn't been so patently insincere.
"…Princess Leia, a hero of the Rebellion in her own right, is said to be devastated, and has gone into seclusion on Dubrillion, appearing in public only to complete her official duties. While neither could be reached for comment, it looks like the fairytale story is finally over for this galactic power couple…"
"Hello?" Maiko said tersely, waving a hand in front of Tal's face. "Over here...bought you a drink, we're having a conversation, remember?"
Tal lightly batted his hand away. 'Don't," she chastised, scowling. The feed moved on to another salacious story, and she blew out a breath, her shoulders sagging in dismay. "Damn, I missed it."
"It'll loop around again in a few minutes," Maiko reassured her. "What's with the interest in galactic gossip, anyway? You don't strike me as the type to be into all that glitz."
"How would you know what I'm 'into'?" Tal glared. "You've known me for what, five minutes?"
"Ten. We're practically dating."
Tal rolled her eyes. "You wish."
"Yeah, I do wish," Maiko rejoined, surprising her with his candor. "Especially now that I know you're a speed junkie like me. And a rival." He raised one dark eyebrow suggestively. "Bet we could have some fun together…."
"Keep dreaming, racerboy." Tal dropped her gaze to the tumbler in her hand, then lifted it to her lips and took a small sip. The premium liquor felt smooth on her tongue, warming her throat and spreading a soothing, seductive heat through her limbs. She hoped it would ease the hollow feeling she felt in the pit of her stomach, the one that had begun the moment she saw her parents' faces on the vidscreen, the one that had intensified when she heard the sanctimonious voice of the reporter say the fairytale story is finally over...
Tal struggled to attach meaning to the words. Her parents had been fine the last time she had spoken to them; they'd seemed happy, united, and…well, normal—or at least as normal as they ever were. As a child, she'd taken for granted how devoted they were to one another, and in her early teens their longstanding habit of flirtatious bickering had been a source of continual and intense embarrassment for Tal, surpassed only by her horror of catching them kissing in the kitchen, something they seemed to do far more often than was strictly necessary. Her parents had been in love with each other for thirty years, and Tal refused to believe anything could change that.
She had been out of touch for a while—she felt a pang of guilt when she realized just how long it had been since she'd last commed home—but the idea that something so significant could have happened during that time, something that could cause her mother to be devastated and driven to seclusion,was so completely beyond Tal's comprehension, it almost defied logic. No, she thought, giving her head a shake. Her parents were together. Period. Full stop. End of discussion.
"Hey, it's back," Maiko said, snapping Tal out of her rumination. She turned her attention to the vidscreen, and Maiko read aloud the words that scrolled across the bottom as they appeared. "'Solo Family Heartbreak….?' Hey, wait...Solo. You're one of those Solos? Wow. I had no idea you were—"
"Shhhh!" Tal ordered. "I need to hear this."
The unctuous voice of the newscaster whined gratingly above the general hubbub of the cantina, sounding as false as ever. Tal gritted her teeth.
"The legendary swoop racer and beloved hero of the Rebellion, General Han Solo of Corellia, has reportedly split from his wife, Leia Organa, the last princess of Alderaan."
The nasal narrative was accompanied by the montage of images Tal had glimpsed earlier; rare snippets of her parents' lives during the war, in the years before they were even married. The first few pictures showcased the couple at the height of their galactic fame, and near the beginning of the relationship that had begun more than thirty standard years before.
"The couple have reportedly parted ways after more than twenty-five years of marriage, and sources close to the couple say it's General Solo who has abandoned the family home in favor of a new life on Areto."
Tal scowled at the flatcam images of herself and her sisters that were now flashing by on the screen, all of them taken years ago when they were kids; Breha, the eldest, walking hand-in-hand with their dad on some high-level street in Coruscant; the youngest, Brin, as a toddler, bundled up in her father's left arm as he scowled and pointed a warning finger at the camera; the twins, Serren and Kai, grinning with delight as they dangled from their Uncle Chewie's gigantic Wookiee thumbs; and all five girls dressed in formalwear, stiffly posed with their parents at some long-ago official function.
"Trading in his princess for a queen, the racing legend has reportedly found new happiness in the arms of Queen Calissa, the young and beautiful ruling monarch of Areto."
The images now flickering by had clearly been selected to imply growing discord between her parents; candid snapshots of them unsmiling, or turned away from one another, or looking less than their best. The next in the series showed the Areti queen in question, a tall, slender and very glamorously attired blonde human who looked to be in her late thirties. That attractive image was followed by a particularly unflattering picture of Tal's mother, looking tired and—very uncharacteristically—a little frazzled. Tal scowled and listened again to the conclusion of the gossip segment.
"Princess Leia, a hero of the Rebellion in her own right, is said to be devastated, and has gone into seclusion on Dubrillion, appearing in public only to complete her official duties. While neither could be reached for comment, it looks like the fairytale story is finally over for this galactic power couple…"
For a moment, Tal sat motionless, staring blankly at the screen as she absorbed the full impact of what she'd heard. It was as if an explosive charge had detonated inside her head, shattering everything she knew—or thought she knew—into a million tiny fragments. She drew a shuddering breath and exhaled it in a rush, vaguely aware that her highly rational and usually reliable inner voice was presently being strangled to death in the grip of strong emotion. She lifted the glass and downed the remaining whiskey in one gulp, clenching her teeth afterwards against the harsh, burning sensation that made her eyes water, lit her throat on fire, and pooled like hot metal in her stomach.
Maiko reached out and laid a tentative hand on her forearm. "Hey, Tal," he queried gently, "you okay? I mean, man, that's gotta be rough. Especially hearing it like that."
"It isn't true," she replied flatly, sparing a glance at Maiko's face and frowning a little at his solicitous manner. She shrugged off his hand, not meaning to be rude but not in the mood to be touched, either. She reclined for a moment against the low back of her bar stool, absently rubbing her palms down the length of her thighs as she felt her pulse begin to slow. "It's a gossip channel," she said with a dismissive wave of one hand. "They're just doing what they do."
"You're probably right." Maiko's smile was sympathetic and his tone wholly reasonable. "But they don't make this stuff up out of nothing, you know. Maybe they embellish it a little—okay, a lot—but there's usually some basis in truth..."
Tal felt the tiny hairs at the back of her neck prickle. Turning her head slightly, she fixed her new acquaintance with a cold glare. "Not this time," she enunciated with icy precision. "They're wrong. They are dead wrong."
Maiko's eyebrows climbed and Tal looked away, scowling. Despite her own firm insistence on that point, she felt a spiralling uneasiness that made her feel almost physically ill, and for a moment she was afraid her body might reject the still-smoldering whiskey that lay unsettled in her stomach. Although she didn't doubt for a moment that her parents were still firmly, fiercely devoted to one another, she couldn't shake the sudden feeling that something was nevertheless very wrong with her family. For the first time in her twenty years, she yearned to have some of the Force ability possessed by her mother and three of her sisters. If only she had that power now, she thought, she could instantly separate truth from fiction, and dismiss the hateful gossip out of hand. As things stood, though, she would be forced to rely on more mundane methods of communication.
"Excuse me," she said abruptly to Maiko Bradis, slipping down from the barstool and feeling blindly around inside a deep inner pocket of her jacket until her hand closed around the familiar shape of her comm. She glanced around the cantina, which now seemed busier and even louder than it had before. The mixed short-track heats for the senior division had just completed, and the small space was rapidly filling up with even more racers and spectators, some of them in search of a celebratory drink, and some who wished only to drown the sorrows of their losses. Every nook and cranny of the establishment seemed occupied, and there was no quiet corner into which Tal could duck. That meant there was really only one private place left in the cantina.
"Be right back," she flipped over her shoulder to Maiko, as she took her comm and headed for the fresher. She was vaguely aware of him staring after her as she made her abrupt departure, but she brushed off the concern. There were more important things to attend to, she reminded herself, than making time with outrageously attractive racerboys.
Growling at the sight of the queue of antsy bar patrons that stretched from the fresher door, Tal almost turned on her heel and exited the building. She changed her mind, though, at the thought of trying to place a call out on the street, hunched against the chill night wind and shouting to be heard over the drone of speeder traffic. When her turn for the fresher finally arrived, she slapped the controls that locked the door and heaved a sigh of relief, grateful for the respite from the noise and bustle of the bar.
Her first call was to her father. He was almost always easier to reach than her mother. More often than not, calls to her mother's personal comm went unanswered during working hours, going straight to the messaging system, which Leia was—by her own admission—terrible at managing. Leaning her back against the fresher door, Tal punched in her father's comcode, tapping her booted foot on the scuffed, dirt-streaked tile floor as she waited for the call to connect across the vast distances between galactic relay points. Upon hearing the familiar tone that indicated Han's comm was not active, she released a grunt of frustration, cancelled the transmission, and tried her mother. As expected, the call went directly to a recording. The sound of the stiffly efficient mechanical voice on the other end urging her to leave a message served only to ramp up Tal's irritation tenfold. Terminating the call, she chewed on the inside of her cheek and tapped the comlink against her open palm. Think. Who else? Chewie! Chewie will know what's going on. Even though her father's oldest friend spent most of his time these days on his homeworld of Kashyyyk, he was still her father's business partner, and he could always be relied upon to know where Han and Leia might be found.
A pounding reverberated on the fresher door, startling Tal and shaking the door with vibrations that traveled up the length of her spine. "Just a minute," she shouted into empty air, her voice bouncing off the tiled walls and sounding very loud in the confined space. She keyed in Chewbacca's comcode and waited, but found to her frustration that the Wookiee's device, too, was inactive.
With a groan, she crossed over to the sani and sank down onto the closed lid. Leaning forward slightly, she rested her elbows on her knees and gazed down at the comlink held between her clasped hands, while her mind searched for options. She considered contacting one of her sisters, but quickly dismissed the thought as a bad idea. There was a chance that the news—Tal hesitated to even give the objectionable story such a legitimate-sounding moniker—hadn't reached them yet, and the last thing she wanted to do was to cause needless worry.
There was one other person who might be able to provide some information or, at the very least, get a message to her mother—Irina Domina, her mother's long-time assistant and trusted friend. A quick check of her chrono told Tal that it was mid-afternoon in Galactic City. Straightening her posture, she punched in the comcode for her mother's office. To her relief, the call connected, but she heaved a weary sigh a moment later when she was immediately routed into a queue; clearly Tal was not the only one trying to get some answers.
The pounding on the fresher door resumed, followed this time by a voice—a rapid, warbling sing-song of alien tones, speaking a language that Tal didn't understand but what she suspected would translate to 'hurry up in there'.
"Alright!" she snapped. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. I'll be out in a minute. Can't a person even—"
"Office of the Minister, please hold."
"No!" Tal interjected swiftly. "Irina, it's me, Tal."
"Tal?" the voice echoed, straining over the noise of voices in the background. "Where are you?"
"Telos," she answered shortly. "What's going on there, Ree? I heard a report...something odd, about Mom and Dad."
"I know; we've all heard it here, too." Irina said. "It's all over the holonet. I wish I could tell you what's happening, Tal; but all I know is that, so far, there's no reason to believe any of it is true. There's been no official statement of denial, but no one can reach your parents to get one, and the Areti royal house is declining to comment for now."
Tal frowned. "Declining to comment?"
"Yes," Irina replied, sounding more than a little distracted. Tal heard her muffle the receiver for a moment while she said something to someone on the other end. She uncovered the comm and continued, "It's absolute madness here; the comm is non-stop, and there are reporters everywhere. I thought public interest in your parents' marriage was a thing of the past, but...I guess not."
"Where are they, anyway?" Tal urged. "The report I saw said Dad was on Areto and Mom was on Dubrillion?"
"That part is true," Irina replied. "They're both out that way on official business. Han is somewhere near Orinth at the palace of the monarch there, and your mother is in Basior City, but they travelled to the Outer Rim together, aboard the Falcon…" Irina's voice trailed off. "Look, Tal, I'm sure it's nothing. The gossip mongers out there on the Rim probably caught them in the middle of an argument and jumped to conclusions. You know how they are when they flare up over something; it always looks and sounds a lot worse than it is, and they make it up in no time. I'm sure they're fine."
Tal acknowledged the truth of those observations, then thanked Irina and signed off, leaving the woman to get back to fielding similar enquiries from across the galaxy. She sat for a moment longer, idly turning her comm unit over in her hand and ignoring the complaining that continued from the other side of the fresher door, while she considered Irina's reassurances. She was probably right. Probably. But the uneasiness that had gripped Tal from the start seemed only to intensify, the more she thought about it. Although her rational mind told her to dismiss the gossip, carry on with her life, and catch up with her parents in a few days when things had settled down, she couldn't reconcile herself to that course of action. She had a very bad feeling about this situation that no amount of rationality could shake.
Still, she hesitated over making a decision. Going to Areto or Dubrillion right now meant giving up the race tomorrow—and probably most of the races scheduled for the remainder of the week—a move that would surely result in her losing her standing in this circuit, and maybe even hinder her ability to finish out the season. But the more she thought about the report she'd seen, the more convinced she became that there was something to it. It had nothing to do with her parents' marriage breaking up, of course; Tal was ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain that such a thing would never happen. But her gut told her something was wrong. Dead wrong.
On her way out of the fresher, Tal brushed past the queue of disgruntled-looking patrons, ignoring their glares and their rude remarks as she made her way through the crowd to the booth at the back. Maiko Bradis had returned to his friends, no doubt on the assumption that Tal had rudely decided to down the drink he'd bought for her, and ditch him for the evening. He glanced up as she approached, and she saw his handsome face break into a broad smile of surprise as he slipped out of the booth to greet her. Straightening to his full height, he squared his stance and hooked his thumbs in his belt, in a confident, open posture that Tal could easily read. Scanning his lean, masculine figure with her eyes, she felt a glimmer of disappointment as she considered yet another lost opportunity.
Would've been fun, Racerboy, she thought. But I've gotta run.
She saw the gleam of expectation in Maiko's eyes so, before he could speak, she clapped him warmly on the arm with one hand and said bluffly, "Today's your lucky day, Bradis. Your odds of winning tomorrow just went up considerably." Digging her fingers into the shallow hip pocket of her snug trousers, she found and withdrew a credit chip sufficient to cover the cost of the Whyren's Reserve she'd gulped, and pressed it into Maiko's hand.
"What? No!" he protested, grabbing her lightly by the wrist and emphatically pressing the chip back into her palm. "That one's on me, Solo."
Tal shrugged, pocketing the chip. "Well, I owe you one."
"I'm gonna hold you to that, Tiny," Bradis said with a broad smile.
Tal responded to his use of the epithet with the sort of disparaging look that ordinarily withered anyone who dared to venture into that territory—and this guy had done it not once, but twice. Her obvious displeasure at his flippant remark only widened his grin, though, offering a glimpse of even white teeth, and crinkling the corners of his hazel eyes. Grudgingly, Tal decided the nickname wasn't quite so objectionable, coming from him.
"But what do you mean," Maiko continued in a more serious tone, "my odds of winning just went up?"
Impulsively, Tal stretched up on tiptoe, using his arm for balance, and kissed his stubbled cheek. It was a light brush of the lips that nevertheless left the racer wide-eyed and gaping at her as she subsided. Tal shoved her hands into her pockets, rocked back on her heels and gave him a rueful smile.
"The bad news?" she said, "I'm leaving. But the good news is now you've at least got a chance at the big payout." She winked. "Thanks for the drink," she added, before swivelling around and heading for the exit.
"Wait," Maiko called after her. "Where are you going?"
"Areto," Tal answered decisively, tossing the answer over her shoulder as she walked. "I need to have a little chat with my dad."
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