Disclaimer: Star Wars is not mine, and it probably never will be. George Lucas owns everything. I'm just playing for a bit, I promise to put everything back where I found it.
Author's Notes: A great big thank you to people who reviewed my humble story! I've never gotten reviews on a story before. Second, sorry about the delay in posting, its been an... interesting couple of days. Enjoy the story! And yes, I'm a huge fan of cliffhangers. Excuse me while I wipe the evil smirk off my face...
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Han dropped his head into his hands and groaned. Around him in the cockpit, the latest and greatest rock hit from Rodina played at quarter speed. With a suddenness that was shocking, the music stopped and an immensely bored voice echoed over the sub-space connection.
"Coruscant Central, how may I direct your call?" the tinny voice drawled. Han took a deep steadying breath and repeated his request for the tenth time in an hour.
"Look, I need to talk to Senator Organa. My name's Han Solo, General Han Solo." Han enunciated clearly and slowly, trying desperately to keep the growing fury out of his voice.
"I'm sorry," the emphatically unapologetic voice replied, "But Senators do not receive calls without prior notification and proper access numbers. Will there be anything else?" Han glared at the speakers, trying somehow to burn a hole straight back to that infuriating desk jockey. His anger and frustration waged battle with the logical portion of his brain.
"Well, you see, I would have the codes, but somehow they were deleted from the ship's computers." Here he spared a glare for the small R2 unit standing in the hatchway, looking as contrite as a droid can possibly look. While searching for a shortcut on fixing the engines, the little astromech managed to erase half of the communication codes stored in the Falcon's databanks.
"Right. Sir, who is it that you really want to call? There are other sentients waiting to be helped." The mechanical voice dripped annoyance that Han would take so much time out of his busy day. At that, Logic took a good look at the battlefield in Han's mind and decided hiding underneath the bunk was a wise tactical decision. Furious, Han did his best imitation of a Wookie and growled at his nemesis.
"Now you listen here pal..." Han was abruptly cut off by the latest and greatest by Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes, played agonizingly slow. Han snarled off a long string of curses, starting in Trandoshanian, and continuing from there until he ran into Rodian. He couldn't believe it. He had already tried calling the main fleet, but some wet-behind-the-ears communication officer had summarily cut him off when he failed to produce the authorization codes. All he had asked was to be allowed to speak to anyone in Rouge Squadron. Wedge would have recognized him. He was sure of it. Next, he had tried to call Leia's private line, but for some reason, it would only play him some pre-recorded message - I am sorry, I am away from my desk at this moment, if you will leave your name, com number, and a brief message, I will answer your call shortly. The only problem with this being the call was always terminated before he could leave a message. After an hour of that, he was relegated to this sith hell known as Coruscant Central. With one last long-suffering glare at the offending equipment, Han stood and huffed out of the cockpit, neatly dodging the apologetic Artoo in the process.
Han kept up a brisk pace until he neared the medical area. The starship captain hated seeing his friend this way. For as long as he knew him, Luke had always been vibrantly alive. Han had suggested this crazy jaunt for the sole reason that his jedi friend seemed whipped by the massive task he had decided to shoulder. Han shook his head. Whatever had possessed the kid to try something so astronomically impossible? While he acknowledged that the once green-as-grass farmboy was now a real, live, Jedi, that was no reason the kid should have to fly himself into the ground with full thrusters. If only he didn't try to do everything himself! Surely, Jedi accepted help once in a while! Sighing, Han drug his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit he had for years. Straightening his shoulders, he strolled into the cabin with his patented gunslinger gait.
Chewie looked up from his place by the bunk and grunted a greeting to Han. Seeing that his captain wished to be alone, the giant wookie silently stole out of the room. Han barely noticed, staring down at his incapacitated friend.
"Alright kid, time to end this." Han slumped into the seat his co-pilot had vacated. Luke hated being called kid. Maybe he would wake up to remind him of that.
"Its been a day and a half. I can't even raise a garbage scow now that droid of yours has Kessled the communications. The hyperdrive's still on the fritz, I need your help with that, can't fix them by myself y'know." Luke showed no signs of hearing Han's tirade. He lay much as he had for the last couple of days, silent and still. The medical equipment showed no sign of any abnormalities. Of course, according to the equipment, Luke should be awake. Han shook his head. This wasn't working. He itched to do something, anything to make this better. What he wasn't telling Luke, what he didn't want to admit to himself, was that he was not going to be able to fix the engines this time. One too many quick fixes had taken its toll, and now only a new hyperspace motivator drive would make the Falcon truly spaceworthy again.
Han's thoughts were interrupted by two simultaneous events. First, the Falcon began to shake and shudder as if under heavy blaster fire. Secondly, and considerably more traumatic to Han, the alarms in the medical equipment started to wail as Luke went deathly pale and stopped breathing.