NORULAC, 40 YEARS ABE:
The Millennium Falcon was a sorry sight as it shook and shuddered its way through the atmosphere of Norulac. The perpetually-rusting hull was further marred by blaster scarring and smoke issuing from its numerous wounds, and the large sensor dish that usually accented the top of the ship was completely gone. On a more crowded world, the arrival of a freighter in such a condition of obvious battle damage would have engendered a great deal of attention, but the mountainous planet below was sparsely settled.
The Falcon dropped several meters with an abrupt lurch and a fresh gout of thick black smoke, then wobbled back to level flight and began descending in a steeper arc as though the pilot was eager to land the ship before the controls failed completely. It came in low over a large cauldron lake-almost big enough to be declared a small sea-and headed for the thickest cluster of civilization visible on the surface: an ostentatious and elaborate resort brimming with luxuries and radiating artificial light in a dozen different colors. Against the low, late afternoon sunlight gilding the crystalline lake, it gave off an aura of tawdriness juxtaposed with elegance: the sort of place that would be frequented by those with more money than they knew what to do, but who still considered themselves-justifiably or not-to be tasteful and artistic individuals.
The place was the Tendrando Mountain Resorts and Casino and the Millennium Falcon would have been out of place among the expensive shuttles and yachts that filled its docking yards even if it hadn't been belching smoke and sparks. No one tried to prevent the aging Corellian freighter from landing, however; indeed, the platform to which the Falcon had been directed was one of the most prominent and desirably located and no sooner had the wheezing landing gear scraped against the pearly duracrete than the transparisteel doorway leading into the resort proper slid open to reveal a well-dressed elderly man who ran toward the ship without hesitation or dignity.
The hatchway of the Falcon opened and disgorged its passengers with similar haste. Leia was the first one down the ramp, still wearing her scorched white robes. Close on her heels followed Bail, Han, and Chewbacca, all three sporting progressively increasing coats of soot. See-Threepio came last of all, tottering stiffly in the rear like an ineffectual governess chasing their absconded charges.
Lando met Leia midway and clasped her hands together in both of his. "What's-" he began, but Leia was already speaking, cutting him off:
"The treaty was a ruse. The Empire attacked. We must contact the fleet immediately."
Lando didn't waste time asking foolish questions. "Of course," he said, nodding agreement. He spared a nod of greeting for the assorted males behind Leia as he turned, one hand resting lightly on the small of her back to guide her onward. She strode toward the resort at a brisk pace, giving the impression less of someone who needed to be guided than of a woman who would have walked through Lando if he had tried to delay her.
"Master Calrissian!" Threepio's cheerful voice rose from the rear of the little group and then trailed-off as the droid realized no one was listening. "What a pleasure it is to see you again, although admittedly these circumstances are not precisely what one might...ah..."
As the doors whooshed open upon their approach, he looked back at Han and asked, "Breha?"
Han's voice was as grim and set as his face. His fixed gaze didn't waver from the back of his wife's head. "She's with her squadron," he said.
Lando winced, looking sorry to have spoken. The little frown of worry between his brows deepened. Bail put a hand on his arm. "I'd know if she were hurt," he said softly, glancing over his shoulder to give his father a reassuring smile. If Han noticed he gave no sign, but Chewbacca warbled his own affirmative agreement with the young Jedi's statement.
"Good," said Lando somewhat weakly. "That's a relief, at least…"
None of the Organa-Solos appeared particularly comforted. Chewbacca barked an enquiry and Lando seized on the conversational offering with the air of a drowning man clutching a sturdy branch: "Yes," he said as they crossed the threshold of the opulent resort, "I suppose we have. It's nothing to rival the luxury resorts of Pantolomin or Spira or the casinos of Ord Mantell or even the Kuari Princess but it's certainly a step up from my old Bespin Holiday Towers, and we turn a tidy little prof-"
"Where's your nearest long-range communicator?" Leia interrupted.
"Almost there," Lando replied, switching gears smoothly from sales pitch to efficient host. He picked up the pace, almost jogging along the wood-panelled hallway in order to get in front of Leia. Artwork-a mixture of holo-reproductions and originals-dotted the walls, some showing scenes of Norulac and others the skylines and beaches and mountains of a dozen distant worlds. Next to a holographic reproduction of a moss painting from Alderaan, Lando spun to a stop and punched a series of buttons on the display card indicating title, artist, and world of origin. In most cases such a card would have also listed where the original was displayed, but for this piece there was nothing to list.
"Oh," Threepio piped-up, "a reproduction of an Alderaanian moss-painting, how elegant."
"We like to keep our monitoring stations and utility access points discreet," Lando explained absently as a panel in the wall popped loose and began to revolve. "Gives people the illusion of being off-the-grid, helps them relax…"
His words trailed-off as his brain caught up to the automatic patter; the Solos weren't here for relaxation. The Solos were here because the galaxy had just gone off the edge-again.
He grimaced and stepped up to the computer terminal revealed by the moving panel. "Just let me punch in my code to give you off-world access," he explained to Leia, suiting words to deed by doing just that and stepping quickly back. "Okay, you're good to go."
Leia barely spared him a nod of thanks before swooping forward and taking command of the terminal, her fingers flying over the keyboard and dials. She entered the long string of codes necessary for military communications from memory, eyes fixed on the screen as she waited for the reply that would indicate she had a secure connection.
Behind her, Lando eased himself over closer to Han, who was watching his wife as fixedly as she watched her screen. Lando cleared his throat. "So, uh...had a little trouble with my ship, I see," he said.
Han barely mustered a smile to accompany the automatic, "It's not your ship."
Lando grunted. "Still looks like you need some repairs...and I expect you're in a hurry."
Bail was the first to realize something wasn't right; he turned to stare at his adoptive uncle, brows furrowed in thought, but Chewbacca picked up on the same thing a few seconds later and tilted his head down to look at Lando as the handsome human continued: "I'll loan you one of my yachts. You can swap the transponder-I have some anonymous spares-and get back on the move within the hour. I'll see to the Falcon , tuck her somewhere out of sight for repairs and send her after you once she's spaceworthy again."
"Thanks," Han said absently, "but I'm not sure that'll be necessary. Repairs shouldn't take more than a few days, and I'm not sure the Republic will have anywhere urgent to send us-to send Leia, anyway-before that. The biggest headache is going to be downloading replacement nav data-"
"Forget about the loan," Lando interrupted. "Call it a gift. That way you don't need to worry about bringing it back in one piece."
He was trying to smile, but the expression kept slipping off his face, leaving strain and worry behind.
"Oh my," said Threepio, "that is quite generous, Master Calrissian!"
Han finally pried his eyes away from his wife (from the steadily increasing volume of her muttered curses, Leia wasn't having much luck getting through) and turned to look at his old friend. "What's the rush?" he asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"It's not my rush," Lando protested. He waved a hand toward Leia. "I just figure the princess will be in a hurry to get back to the fight-and the rest of you too, of course. I just want to help."
Han shook his head. "It sounds more to me like you're trying to get us out of here as fast as possible." His hand didn't stray toward the blaster on his hip, but he did adjust his posture as though bracing for a fight. "Why? What do you know we don't?"
"I don't know anything and I don't need to," Lando retorted shortly. "The way you showed up here tells me it's bad, and trouble has a way of spreading-and of following you." He swallowed, his shoulders sagging. "Han, I love you like the brother I never wanted, but I don't want to get caught-up in all this again. I have too much to lose. I have a life here-"
"So you'll just sit back in your plush resort and relax while we risk our lives to protect your cushy little life?" Han's voice was a snarl, his hands curling into fists at his side.
"Dad-" Bail reached for his father's arm but Han shook him off, never taking his eyes off his old friend.
"I say, Captain Solo-" Threepio began.
Chewbacca shook his head, barking his disappointment. Lando flinched, but stood his ground.
"I want to help you," he said, pleading for understanding-or maybe just for absolution. "I'm going to help you. I just...I can't lose it all again, Han. I did my fair share of fighting, and then I got out. Built a life, a home, a family-"
"So did I!" Han snapped. "What do you think I'm fighting to protect?"
"I resigned my commission!" Lando shouted back. Chewbacca roared, but Lando raised his voice over the Wookiee's bellow: "I'm not a General anymore! Neither are you!"
"I remind you I was an admiral-"
"And you hated every minute of it!" Lando cut him off. "You liked command even less than I did-"
"I still did it!" Han was shouting too now, Chewie bellowing over both of them. Threepio's desperate protests that they all calm down and discuss the matter civilly might as well have been spoken straight into the vacuum of space for all the notice anyone paid him. Bail sighed and pressed his fingertips together, lowering his head to rest on them. Leia ignored them all in favor of jabbing at the recalcitrant computer terminal.
Lando slumped, suddenly deflating. "So did I," he said softly. "I fought my fight. I'm done. Han, they don't need us. The New Republic has-"
"A Super Star Destroyer," Han interrupted. "That's what the Empire brought to the peace signing. A shiny new Super Star Destroyer."
"Along with a good-sized support fleet," Bail added without looking up.
Lando swallowed. "What?" he breathed. "The Empire doesn't have the resources left to-"
"Well they found them somewhere," said Han, voice grim.
Lando stared. "That's...that's impossible," he said, the words less of a statement and more of a prayer.
Han shook his head. "Impossible or not, they did it. We barely got out alive-and a lot of people didn't."
"Han…"
"I can't get through."
Leia's voice was sharp, frustrated, lined with fear. Everyone turned toward her, Bail looking up from his fingers and Lando's cape flapping weakly in the air.
"The fleet, I can't contact them. My codes should be good, but civilian equipment like this just isn't specced for transmissions on military channels, and at this distance-" She shook her head.
"Then we'll jump there directly," Han said. He whirled back to face Lando again. "I changed my mind," he said, "we'll take a ship. The fastest one you've got."
Lando looked suddenly unsure but all he said was, "Okay, I'll get my people to work swapping-in a clean transponder…"
"No time," Han said, before Leia could; Chewbacca wuffed agreement. "We'll take it how it is, punch our way through whatever we need to."
"But if you run into trouble…"
Leia's eyes narrowed. "You don't want your name associated with it, is that it?" she guessed.
"Oh now Mistress Leia, let's not assume…"
"We'll tell the Empire we stole it from you, if it'll make you feel better," Han snarled.
"Oh sure," Lando retorted, voice as venomous as Han's, "because they'll believe that-"
"We'll be jumping straight to the fleet's staging-point," Bail pointed-out reasonably. "We're not going to run into any Imperial entanglements between breaking atmo here and arriving there, Uncle Lando. You don't need to worry."
Lando shook his head. "Kid, I hate to break it to you but your parents can manifest Imperial entanglements like nobody in the galaxy-"
"Then the faster we leave, the sooner you can go back to sticking your head in the sand," Han snapped, even as Threepio said, "He does have a point, Captain Solo, Mistress Leia-" Han ignored the droid, raising his voice to add, "Or maybe up your own-"
"We don't have time for this!" Leia raised her voice to be heard over the growing argument as well as over the undercurrent of grumbles issuing from an increasingly annoyed-looking Chewbacca. "Coruscant is under attack and helpless and even at flank speed it'll take the fleet an hour to get there, and us almost twice as long to get to them . We need to leave now."
Lando's eyes darted between his old friends and the young Jedi he had once bounced on his knee and tried not to think about the fact that the last time he had felt this trapped, those same three old friends and their golden protocol droid had come limping into his city in the clouds in the same broken ship, trailing a dark cloak and a gloved fist that he still saw in his nightmares.
He wondered if his luck had finally run-out for good.
