Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas. All writing is strictly for fun.

Chapter 16

Renewal

The Falcon made its approach to Yashuvhu during what would have been Tatooine's evening the following day.

Luke sat in Han's chair resting his chin between his thumb and forefinger and propping up his elbow. Beside him in the co-pilot seat was Leia, balancing a bowl of balka noodles on her knees. Once again, she wound a pasty noodle around her utensil and failed to prevent it from slithering like a greased worm off the utensil onto the floor. With an 'I told you so,' smirk, Luke slithered it all the way to the garbage receptacle. He said, "Why don't you just give up and eat them with your fingers. This isn't exactly an upscale Coruscanti restaurant."

She shrugged. "Truly, it's one of the tragic after-affects of my upbringing. I see cutlery, I think, 'you must use it.' You never met my-"

"Hey! Hey!" Han's bellowing erupted from somewhere on the Falcon.

The siblings exchanged glances. A moment later, the lanky Corellian made his way aft; brows raised, eyes rebellious and unimpressed, crossing his arms defiantly as a lagging boot caught up with its mate. "I've been thinking," he began.

"That's scary," Leia replied without missing a beat.

Han scowled. "It occurred to me we haven't discussed how we're going to play this when we get there. You ran a hundred plus searches out of our quarters on Baskarn for Yashuvhu. They'll be logs of anything you downloaded from the mainframe system. If the New Republic is looking for us-"

"We're not going to be high on their list of priorities," Leia soothed. "Not to come this far out."

"But you don't know that for sure. There's no way you can know that for sure."

Luke exchanged another fleeting look with his sister. They had discussed this earlier in depth, without Han present. Leia had a long list of reasons as to why she almost knew for sure that the New Republic wasn't going to be waiting for them. For one, they didn't have the credits to spare for a search and recover mission. Nor did they have enough vessels to arbitrarily command the ones they possessed on a wild goose chase across the galaxy. Madine and Cracken were highly unlikely to authorize a search, even if external pressure pushed for it. High Command was probably fighting to contain the recent events, lest they draw unwanted attention to an already unpleasant situation. It reflected as badly on them as it did Luke and herself. But Han was right. None of these reasons guaranteed them any sort of nondescript anonymity once they landed and Han's least favorite words of late were probably, maybe and I hope.

"No," she admitted, straightening her spine. "It's not possible for me to be one hundred percent certain of anything."

"I thought so," Han sighed, swinging one arm dramatically, tapping his temple with a rigid finger. "Can you hear that? That's my brainwaves shouting over and over that they think this is a bad idea."

"Han."

Luke tried to reassure him. "Yashuvhu doesn't belong to the New Republic, the same as it didn't belong to the Empire. We… we..." He half caught himself and stammered – he was saying we when we was the same group he'd escaped from on Baskarn. "We don't have any jurisdiction out here."

"That's exactly it. We don't have any jurisdiction. For the record, I'll state that I'm equally confident that Imperial Intelligence doesn't have any jurisdiction out here either. Or his Royalness' Death Guards, or Kadann's private assassins. Nor do we know if Intelligence has clamped down on the little-" Han pinched his thumb and forefinger together as though he were crushing an insect. "-Problem that rigged your shuttle last month."

Leia waved a hand and cut him off. "Yes, I'm fully aware that if Intelligence has records of my downloads whoever it was might have leaked the information to the Imperials. But it's irrelevant. Our only hope is that someone on Yashuvhu will help us and in order for that to happen we need be as forthright as possible. First rule of diplomacy – or a matter of general politeness - lying about your identity makes for a terrible first impression."

"It's worked for me in the past," Han countered. "All we need are a few disguises. I've got dye capsules down below. I've always wanted to be a Chiss or Etti."

"It won't work. If anyone's looking for your ship, Yashuvhu gets so few visitors and has so little traffic we're going to stick out like a sore thumb regardless." Appraising him quietly and carefully keeping her tone neutral, she said, "You don't really think an old Corellian YT-1300, if they've been notified about it, will be something they'd overlook?"

"I figured we'd land at least using a few smokescreens, aliases. They'll have to work at figuring out who we are." Han bowed low and dropped his voice. "It wouldn't be sitting on the end of their noses on a piece of flimsy. I don't play sitting duck."

"Luke needs to be who he is, Luke Skywalker, Jedi, asking for their assistance."

The Corellian rolled his eyes toward the dilated hyperspace view. "Why doesn't he say he's some other Jedi?"

"I would if I could," Luke interjected, knowing that no matter how much Han grumbled that he wouldn't change his mind this far in the game. Based on logic the round was going to Leia. But he nodded sympathetically anyways for his benefit. "I'm sorry Han. I know it's a big risk we're asking you to take."

"Yeah. It is." Gesturing to Leia's flowing senatorial robes and looking none to pleased with their plan, Han asked, "Are you going to turn our jaunt into a politically tinged event in the name of diplomacy too?"

She shook her head. "This would be called the extent of my formal wear since the rest was blasted into confetti on Elrood. Luke will do all the talking for us." Her smile became beguiling. "Unless of course, you want to get dressed up and play the diplomat, here on unofficial business for the New Republic?"

"A thousand no's."

"If I paid you more than you could imagine?"

"A trillion no's," he amended, "since I know you don't have that much. If you did it might be another story."

"Since when am I doing all the talking?" Luke wondered urgently. He'd been counting on his sister's diplomatic skills when they arrived. And like Han, he'd noted Leia's traditional style of dress hours ago and assumed the same.

Feigning innocence, though not convincingly, Leia turned and widened her eyes. "Did I forget to mention that?"

"Yes you did."

"I'm sorry. It must have slipped my mind. Here's your heads up. You'll be doing all the talking when we get there."

"But this isn't my area of expertise?"

Without blinking, Leia answered. "I'm not allowed to speak in public or to any male without permission. I'm not sure I'd even be permitted to speak to the Tas."

"Are you serious?"

Leia gulped another noodle and blotted the corner of her mouth. "Without prior clearance from their embassy on Coruscant I'm forbidden from serving in any official capacity. So unless you want to make a run to the Core, it's up to you."

"Ohhhh," Han chirruped with immediate understanding, advancing toward her with one greedy eye on her dinner. "This is one of those worlds. What's that?"

"Yes, those worl- Hey! Hey! Hey! Get your grubby, grease-stained fingers out of my dinner."

"You can't possibly eat all that by yourself," he protested with a full mouth. "And I thought you'd gotten over your dirty hand issues. Huh. Huh. This should certainly be very interesting."

"I thought you'd think so and get a utensil! It's FOOD."

"Are you gonna launch a sort of feminist political platform the minute we land. This should be very enlightening. Leia on her best behaviour and quiet. I don't think I've ever seen that. Luke have you ever seen that?"

Leia puffed up her cheeks and exhaled with exasperation. "I can't imagine why I didn't want to mention this until the very last second. I can't, for the life of me... And come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen you on your best behavior."

Han gestured to himself, gasping as though mortally insulted. "What do you think this is?"

"Sometimes I'm not sure. Sometimes I'm afraid to overanalyze anything you do."

Luke coughed loudly. "Well, if that's the case maybe we could get back to my being the group orator. Whatever pertinent information you have that I should know beforehand?"

His sister finally gave him her full attention, regarding him warmly and passing the bowl of noodles to Han's outstretched hand. "Luke, you'll do beautifully. I'm going to be with you for the duration and you'll have my counsel available to you whenever you need it. It will simply be in a diminished capacity when we're not alone."

"How strict will it be?"

Leia's expression grew contrite. "I'm not clear on the specifics. Sarin mentioned a few issues to me the morning we left, though I don't think they're relevant. I read up on what I could when I ran my searches. Their current form of government is an offshoot of a traditional monarchy, and what I politely refer to as a rural paradox: A civilized, self-sufficient society, modernized as much as it can be out here, but completely backwards when it comes to gender equality." Narrowing her eyes and frowning, she continued. "To be honest, I'd love to barge off this ship and give them a lesson on how archaic their division of the sexes is, but I know better. They never played by Coruscant rules; they weren't involved in the politics there even when the Old Republic stood. They're isolationists, which means this might be tricky. It'll be easy to step on their toes without intending to and we need to demonstrate our respect. Anyways, you'll able to feel your way as you go. I'm the one who gets to endure the wide range of annoying banalities and quaint traditions."

She looked as though she wanted to throw herself in an escape pod and eject. Luke tried to reassure her. "I'm sure it won't be that bad."

"We'll find out in about half an hour," Han said, tipping his chin toward his chair and offering the second-hand meal. "You hungry? I'll trade you."


No blockade-runners were dawdling when they dropped out of hyperspace. No local ships picketed them in the troposphere. The voice over the Yashuvhu Portmaster's Authority channel was friendly and polite. The view as they approached the capital, Eligel Proper, revealed a medium sized city by outer world standards, mapped in concentric grids, circle upon circle, broken by high towers and warrens of kaleidoscopic gardens. Yashuvhu's capital had only one dry dock, which was essentially a fenced in meadow and was large enough to fit maybe a dozen ships. Only one other ship besides the Falcon was making use of it.

Han, as the ship's captain and owner, was checked through customs first, expediently. Leia was placed in the holding area adjacent to the main office. Luke was processed next, identifying himself by name, adding the title 'Jedi Knight', and explaining that he was here to do 'unofficial' research for the New Republic (Leia had suggested he refer to all his upcoming duties as unofficial, since the planet's records on foreign diplomacy were virtually nonexistent). In accordance with the local laws, he also declared that Leia was his sister, and that she was traveling with him.

For ten minutes the portmaster searched through his vid-console, and when he finally looked up at him, all he said was, "I'm sorry. The planet Jedi Knight is not listed nor one I've ever heard of."

The situation disintegrated from there.

Leia had explained to Luke that he might have to go along with a few cultural traditions he wasn't necessarily in favor of, but not to worry, to relax, and do whatever he thought was necessary. He knew that. He knew their entire excursion to Yashuvhu might depend on it. It was simply difficult to accept.

"No, she's not mine. I don't own her."

The sallow faced young man in the somber uniform continued giving him the same vapid stare he'd been giving him since they'd entered the customs office. "But she's your kin."

"Yes, she's my sister."

"Then she has to be registered as your property or that other man's property and you said he's not her legal mate."

He had thought, erroneously, that merely declaring her would be enough. Luke had never stomached the concept of a sentient being owned, for both moral reasons and due to his upbringing. Slavery had been legal on Tatooine before he was born. His Aunt and Uncle had staunchly been opposed to it, railed against it when he was growing up. Though he knew it wasn't the same here, the whole business of 'registering a person as property' was unsavory, repulsive even. Worse was the tiny sign beside the console: Does your female have an updated microchip. 15% off if a first time visitor. Luke, panicked, moved his body in front of the sign and glanced toward the holding area, fearing that if Leia saw it the custom's clerk might wind up on the floor in an Echani-style chokehold. "Why can't you register her all by herself?"

"I just explained it to you."

Luke tried the implacably obstinate approach. "No, you didn't."

"Yes, I most expressly did."

"No, you didn't."

"Sir. As I've explained, she must be registered under her mate or closest male family member. Unless, unless...." The clerk struck the side of his head as if in sudden understanding. "Oh, oh, oh? Unless she's one of those scientists we get from time to time? Is that what you're trying to say? Is she a scientist? Or a teacher? If she has a permissive visa from Coruscant…"

Luke ground his teeth together. "No, she doesn't have a visa from Coruscant."

"Well, then, we seem to have a problem here."

"Just register her by herself."

Once again the mental nudge prompted the man to turn to his console screen. Once again the clerk stared blankly at the screen for ten seconds. The nudges simply didn't work if there was no viable option onscreen for the addle-brained clerk. He said, plaintively now, under duress, for indeed Luke's mental persuasiveness left him wanting to please; "She can't be registered by herself without the proper visas. I can't do it. We'll register her as your female. Prince Luke Skywalker-"

What in the world… "Not Prince. I'm not a prince."

"But you gave her name as Princess Leia Organa?"

"That is her name."

"I don't follow? If she is your sister how are you not a prince? Oh…" The clerk flushed and gave him a quick nod. "Oh Sir, if you are a king, please forgive me for presuming…"

"No! No, I'm- oh! Wait!" Hadn't a similar ploy had worked for Threepio on Endor? There was no reason it might not work again, no matter how ridiculous it was. Luke leaned over and lowered his voice. "I am a king. A very important king. Where I come from we do not register females as property. I do not want her registered as my property. Understood?"

The man became even more distraught. "Your Majesty? Oh, oh… Wait here for one moment, if the Tas was expecting you and no one told me-" The fit of babbling echoed down the passageway.

Suddenly uncertain about what his spur-of-the-moment fib was going to accomplish, Luke tore the 15% off sign from the console and dropped it into the nearest receptacle. Then he glanced outside at his Han and threw his hands in the air uselessly. Han mimicked him, mouthed, 'better you than me,' patted his sidearm, and pointed in the direction the clerk had vanished. He had to pinch himself. Leia probably would have had no qualms about registering him as her property. He conjectured that, and then felt a trickle of distress at his own apparent ineptness. If he was so sure she would why was he trying so hard not to.

Leia always told him his equitable senses of compassion and justice were wonderful traits when they didn't land him in a heap of trouble.

The clerk returned before Luke had time to worry further, bustling and simpering under his breath. "Oh no! I'm so sorry, Your Majesty. I still cannot permit her to enter the city until she's registered. It is unacceptable. We have strict regulations about this, you see, and there are no exceptions save the proper visas and documentation from our embassy on Coruscant."

I give up. Standing in the customs office all day long was losing its appeal. "Okay, look then," he groaned. "Put her under my name. But it's just Luke Skywalker. I'm not a king."

"The information you provided is incorrect?"

"It's not incorrect. It's… it's…" Luke gave him a very firm mental nudge. "It's a very long story and you don't have time for it, trust me."

Finally, there was a prod his meager brain could interpret. "Okay. Luke Skywalker, persons listed as property, one female, Princess Leia Organa."

Property? Luke winced inside, hoping this was merely a draconian formality that would mean nothing once they entered the city. "Fine."

"And you hereby swear to uphold Yashuvhi law, and assume responsibility for any wrongdoings any persons listed as your property might perpetrate while in the city."

Because she'll run amok and start looting the minute we're downtown. "Do you follow the Universal Charter of Code and Conduct?"

"The UCCC? Oh, yes let me check." He was off and flipping through a binder loaded with flimsiplast on the desk behind him.

The Universal Charter of Code and Conduct, or UCCC as it was widely known, was a blanket term for the general laws most worlds had in common. It was a traveler's safety net. Nearly every human world followed it to varying degrees, and for the most part it meant that crimes such as murder or theft were crimes, that any individual who perpetrated such acts would be charged accordingly. Still, on different worlds there grey areas, and penal systems didn't tend to mirror each other. But according to the UCCC, one could be safely assured that 'jaywalking' for instance, wouldn't net them a year's imprisonment, or that public drunkenness didn't entail a mandatory death sentence. There were places like that, depending on the culture. One could never be too careful.

"Oh, of course. It says here we are under the scope of its requirements. I should know that straightaway," he mumbled, apologetically now. "We don't get many visitors."

It was a strain to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "Really?"

"No, no we don't. Now. Is she already tagged with an ownership microchip?"




Shortly after the ordeal in the portmaster's office, a mid-size transport arrived and settled beyond the gates at the end of the dock. A parade of natives began disembarking.

"That looks like a receiving party?" Leia judged, rubbing at her smarting cheek. A very formal one, too. If she didn't know better she might have said the Alderaanian Council of Elders was marching toward them in full regalia. She drew Han's bulky padded coat tighter against the gelid air, wishing she hadn't pinned her hair up. The tips of her exposed ears were freezing. Furthermore, an ominous vermilion cloud was rapidly approaching from the South, and as it neared she was beginning to see that the cloud was crawling, made up tiny things - tiny fluttering winged things. For now there was plenty of time to rush back inside and escape, but she was keeping a wary watch.

"Yes, it does," Han agreed, sneezing for what had to be the tenth time since they'd disembarked. "They don't look like they start chanting at sunrise or something? Hey... you're gonna rub that off if you keep touching it."

The indignity of being female on Yashuvhu was beginning to settle over her like a hangman's noose. Leia grimaced. "They didn't stamp the name of your nearest relative on your face."

"Green is a good colour for you," Han told her. "And it brings out your eyes-"

"Please shut up before I hurt you."

"Hey. I'm just trying to be nice. When did that become a crime."

"If you assault him I'm responsible, remember," Luke contributed, not altogether helpfully. "And be grateful I got you around the microchip,"

Leia crossed her arms and huffed so forcefully her breath fogged beyond the tip of her nose. They weren't sticking one of those things in her neck while she had anything to say about it. Dissolvable and biodegradable her foot. She pointed toward the group. "I thought you said you called for ground transport. If that's it, it really looks like some sort of official receiving party."

Luke stared. "Yes, it does." His ears and cheeks reddened but it might have been the cold. "Oh, dear," he muttered. "Oops."

"Oops?" She and Han echoed together.

"I think... maybe when he went to the back.... ah.... I'm coming to the very likely conclusion that the clerk may have misinterpreted me on a few things."

"Misinterpreted you? He spoke perfect Basic. Exactly how could he have misinterpreted you?"

"It's partially my fault," he groaned. "But he was the nearest to an organic robo-hack I've ever met."

"You mean the inbreeding," Han commented dryly, pausing to sneeze again. "That's what happens in places like this."

The small party was suddenly surrounding them, holding out their hands in a universal gesture of peace and welcome, speaking rapidly in their native tongue. Leia folded her hands together at her waist, wary of breaking protocol and wanting to soak in as many details as she could. The men wore grey, loose slitted robes, draped over more traditional, Core style clothing. They were all embroidered with matching coppery thread. They were either, Leia guessed, deeply religious or deeply political – or a mix of both. Three had the same golden eyes as Sarin.

At first Luke answered their queries with slow broken phrasing. The leader starting shaking his fists and head excitedly, and her brother began giving curt replies and following the steady stream of the language with no apparent difficulty. Leia presumed some sort of dialect change had taken place.

A man who appeared to be the youngest of the group turned Han. "We are greatly honoured," he said, in surprisingly unaccented Basic. "We would have been here sooner to greet you if we had known you were coming." Almost as an afterthought, he flicked his fingers in her direction and added, "Permission to speak freely granted, Your Highness."

Permission Granted? Old training and gritted teeth kept her together. It was her moral imperative to play along, and this wouldn't be the first time in her life. She curtsied as gracefully as she could manage without dragging Han's greatcoat along the ground. "Thank you."

She and Han were abruptly forgotten. "We are so seldom graced with such honours, Your Majesty."

"There's been a bit of a misunderstanding," Luke hastened. "Perhaps I might explain-"

The man waved toward the darkening skies. "Please, please. Make haste. There's a seedstorm on the horizon. We should get you all to your guest residences before it arrives."

"Your Majesty?" Han coughed beside her under his breath, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "A seedstorm. Joy, oh joys. I think I hate it here already. Do you have any idea what's going on? I have no idea what's going on."

Leia squeezed his elbow sympathetically and guided him toward to the waiting transport. "Relax," she whispered. "We'll be fine."

Han looked increasingly worried and pale beneath his tan. "Sure we will. But I'm not in the mood to die today."

Alarm tensed her muscles. She peered back over her shoulder at the portmaster's office. "What's wrong?"

Han lifted his chin. "That thing they're leading us to is prehistoric."

Glancing ahead, she saw that their transport was the grandfather of the modern repulsor craft or sled. Not modern, but certainly not that old. "Haven't you ever ridden in an overland craft with propellers?"

Slack-jawed, Han shook his head. "They have a glitch. They were outlawed on Corellia a decade ago because of a glitch with the propellers. That model. That make. I remember. Over a third of them had problems. I heard they sold them on the black market to a world that didn't know better."

Leia slowed her steps and took a deep breath. "Years ago though, right? They must have fixed them. If this was where they wound up I'm sure they caught on to the glitch."

"I'm not getting in it unless I check it out.."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"How about I say, 'Nice antique you've got here. Can I see the engine please and make sure I'm not going to wind up splattered?"

"Can you find a subtle way to do it?" she asked worriedly. She didn't want to question their safety standards if she could avoid it.

"I'll try."

Before boarding Han 'dropped' his comlink in such a way that it scattered to the rear of the transport. When he stooped to retrieve it, he discovered that his boot needed to be unfastened and refastened, and he accomplished that while his face was angled toward the rotator propellers. When he stood he dipped his chin in discreet nod, rapping his knuckles once on the exterior cladding – either for luck or to make sure it wouldn't crumple beneath his fist. Then he followed the crowd on board.

The entire discussion en route was a jumble of strung together vowels and consonants broken by guttural exclamations. Though her ears strained in vain to make out a familiar word, they caught none save her brother's name and a form of address that perplexed her. Sensing the vibrant ring of internal awkwardness spreading in all directions, she tried without much success to suppress the perpetual tilt affecting one corner of her mouth. Han peered through the transport view-screens trying to memorize the route from the landing field.

They were delivered to a guesthouse on the edge of the Tas' property, and promptly left to unwind with assurances that they'd been looked after shortly. They declined an offer of servants.

The twitch plaguing the corner of her mouth erupted into a full-blown smile of amusement the minute they were alone again.

Tas Luke, they'd said repeatedly.

"They think you're a king," she sniffed amiably. "How in the world did you manage this?"

Luke stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I tried and tried to convince them I wasn't. I swear. They wouldn't hear of any of it. As far as I could make out, Yashuvhu hasn't had royal visitors in over a decade - since the Emperor - so this, me, is rather exciting for them."

"Er... so from what fairytale did this misunderstanding spring from?" Han called, withdrawing a handheld scanner from his inside jacket pocket and beginning to sweep.

"Well." Luke scratched at his temple and smoothed back a lock of hair. "Their logic is very simple actually, and sort of difficult to argue with." He turned to address Leia specifically. "Because you, by birthright, are nobility, by birthright I'm also nobility. And because you're female by Yashuvhi law I must have a title higher than you. So if you're a princess them I'm a..."

"King?" Han completed. "And it doesn't matter that if pressed to name the five Ruling Houses of Alderaan you would only know one?"

"Apparently not. It also occurred to me we had nowhere to stay anyways. And I don't know what you two have for credits but I don't have much."

The corners of her mouth remained upturned against her will. It was perversely comical. It had never occurred to her, even after all these years of diplomatic events and government receptions, Alliance benefits, that people might find her title confusing if they didn't know more of their complicated background. It had never occurred to her that Luke would accidentally stumble into regal shoes as a result, that it would be so ennobling for him. What did occur to her, after watching him bamboozle his way through his apologies and embarrassing their hosts, was that instruction on how to act as an intergalactic dignitary might come in handy for the future.

They waited until Han had completed sweeping the sloping walls. The scanner didn't bleep or ping in alarm, nothing indicated hidden listening devices. "I do believe," he announced, "That unless they have state of the art technology buried in the walls that can evade New Republic scanners - and I'm gonna go out on a limb and say they don't after the ride here - we're the sort of guests who can speak freely and leave at their leisure."

"As opposed to what other kind?" Leia asked, winking, knowing full well what he meant.

"The kind that can't," Han winked back. "The kind I don't want to be. Should I say it first? Those datapads are sounding familiar again. And I'm the skeptic."

Luke studied the skylighted geodesic dome over his head and took his time responding. "This is a random coincidence. I'm here as me, not Niras. They're calling me a king because my sister is a Princess. If I'd come here six months ago we'd be in the same position."

"We had no reason to be here six months ago," Han replied dubiously, cracking open the visitor's guide. "They might not be throwing jewels at you but it's eerie. I don't like it."

It was eerie. Leia suppressed the tired voice at the back of her mind that agreed with him and shot him a stern reminder to be more judicious. Then she began inspecting the various placards stationed just inside the entrance, familiarizing herself with the basic household devices. Yashuvhi script topped each placard; helpfully translated beneath into aurabesh was the function of each correlating button. Beneath the glyphs and written communication, in case no common language was found, were rebus pictorials, identifying controls for the holo-unit, food, security.

Their accommodations were very uniquely Yashuvhi. Opulent was the first word that came to mind, though they weren't nearly as plush and expensive as Xixor's palace had been. Two vaulted corridors branched off of the airy communal living space and open kitchen. The entablatures between the architraves and cornices in the main room bore a richly ornamented frieze, made up of glyphs representing sunrise and sunset. Curvilinear patterns dominated every facet of décor, every architectural design, from the most massive structures, such as the overhead skylights that stretched at least twice her height, oval in shape, to the diminutive drawer handles.

Without edges.

It wasn't merely the name of the world. It was a philosophy. It was an architectural style. A novitiate to anthropology would not have missed the religious undertones either.

Across the room, Han began muttering excitedly to himself. "Oh look here! Luke, you're not going to believe this."

"Believe what?"

"They have a museum here! You know that ship that crashed all those years ago? The one you told me about Leia? It's intact! It's still here…"

"What ship?" Luke asked.

"The one the Jedi crashed in. A thousand year old hyperdrive system," Han marveled, taking a little hop-step and flinging himself onto the sumptuous family-sized lounge. "A thousand years old, un-tampered with, un-updated, un-altered. You can hardly find blueprints for that style of fusion generator anymore. It's a relic! It's an antique! We don't even know what materials they were using for the reactor cores back then…It was all ancient beacons and jump gates…"

Her mechanically inclined sibling's curiosity increased ten-fold. He pursed his lips with interest. "Oh."

Han drawled on. "It was the 'era' of the recoilless fusion generator."

"They weren't necessarily recoilless," Luke corrected. "The electro-magnetic energy used for the thrust wasn't as powerful. It took longer to reach .5, probably near a timepart."

"Oh, don't tell me you subscribe to that school of thought," Han guffawed "You're a pilot, you should know better. I say whatever antimatter they favoured absorbed the thrust and softened the transition." Han widened his eyes and lowered his voice for effect. "It got lost in the technological shuffle. If we could just find a sample now, we've got the capabilities to recreate it… why, we'd be richer than-"

"Both of you," she interrupted. "Before this goes on for hours?"

Han shrugged. "She doesn't want me to say it. She knows I'll wind up saying it again."

"Say what?" Luke grinned mischievously.

Leia groaned knowing exactly what was coming next. All of their discussions wound up the same way.

As if she didn't already know, as if she hadn't been taught the same historical facts in grade school, he tapped into old Corellian bragging rights: "If it wasn't for us there never would have been a Republic in a first place, because there never would have been any interstellar exploration and all of us would be sitting at home in our own star systems twiddling our thumbs and wondering what was out there."

Luke delivered his usual groan. "Or, if they're right, and all human stock evolved on Corellia, we'd all still be sitting there today anyways so it wouldn't make a difference."

"It would be a lot more crowded."

Privately Leia was pleased to see her brother join in and relax. They were funny that way. Bonding between the two men was primarily fomented over hyperdrive theories and teasing her. As much as she wouldn't have admitted it then and there, being around Han when he was in one of his not-so-serious moods was ultimately good for everyone's mental health. She opted to leave the caballing pair and explore.

The hallways gently split at either end, curved to prevent sharp turns. Each hall ended with a pair of bedrooms, which were, like the main room, geodesic domes of sorts, cornerless, though not as uniformly circular. The furniture was the same, without edges, done in beautifully handcrafted softwoods. The beds and bathtubs were round.

The first wing was decorated in dark, depressing, colours, browns and autumnal tones, leading her to guess that the opposing suites would reflect an entirely contrasting atmosphere. Her expectations were proved correct. The second wing was aglow in lighter, more feminine hues, golds and oranges. She ventured into one of the freshers and startled herself, having temporarily forgotten about the design on her cheek. After a moment's inspection she decided it wasn't too terrible. It was the size of one finger, curving from the end of her brow around her ocular socket. The elaborate script was Luke's name and relation to her, but she only knew that because she'd been told so at the customs office. Ignorance mollified her to a degree; had she been able to read it, it would have been more disturbing. She wet her finger and rubbed it over a corner but it didn't smudge. The agent had told her it would last a week.

Though Kadann's writings had said that Niras would return home, Leia found herself wandering through the house with a distinct sense of déja-vu, as though it were she, and not Luke who Kadann claimed belonged here. It occurred to her that it might be a twin thing; maybe this world was familiar to Luke and she was tapping into it.

Then again, she assured herself, it might not be Yashuvhu. Being a guest at a royal palace, even after all these years, still had a memorable air about it. She'd been used to traveling this way growing up, visiting her father's friends, their relatives - so much so in fact, it had been years before she grasped the meaning of 'high style'. In all fairness, her father's travels were more often then not educational, though at a young age she'd been toted along on more official trips as well, much to her aunt's chagrin. His 'good luck charm', he'd called her. Her aunts thought otherwise.

A six year old has no business being exposed to the vagaries of life, her Aunt Celly had lectured her brother, in the high pitched whiny voice one could hear from any corner of the house.

That conversation had taken place hours after she'd announced to her Aunt Tia that when she grew up, she wanted to be one of the girls who wore the blue gowns during Capital Season in the Tapani Sector. It had been all about the dresses, made of shimmering spun lace and synthetic wildflowers. Naturally, at six, she'd been enamoured with them. It had taken her ten years to figure out why her aunt was so upset, that the 'Women in Blue' as they were called, were actually elite courtesans from neighbouring Procopia.

Han loved the story dearly.

In retrospect it was a habit her father had begun soon after her adopted mother, his wife, had died. He'd undoubtedly been lonely. Maybe having a child to entertain had provided a needed distraction. Her aunts had put an end to it then, and her father had quickly been so caught up in his own affairs it wasn't until she was near her teens, trying so hard to be like him, to impress him, that he'd stopped and taken notice of her again. Then she'd been more his protégée than a daughter. She was thinking about that particular trip, and Bail Prestor Organa, fiddling with the atmospheric controls, when Han snuck up behind her, enveloping her in something soft and warm.

"There you are," he proclaimed triumphantly, as if he'd been searching and searching for her. (In fact, not two minutes ago Leia had heard him trying to sucker Luke back into his electro-magnetic energy versus the recoilless fusion generator debate).

Immediately she picked up on the change in his tone. "You sound remarkably recovered for someone who thought they were going to lock us up when we landed and was afraid to fly with them."

"I did not," he protested. "Besides, they never asked for my weapon. That always makes me feel right at home."

Leia doubted that was the extent of it. "And?"

"And… I'm going to throw up a few security devices outside just in case. I have no idea what sort of security features they have going on, plus we have no idea what other guests they might be keeping. After that, I'll feel like I've got this under control."

"Luke will know if anything's odd is afoot too," she reassured him.

"You know before I met you they used to call me a one-man sensor suite."

"You still are," she reassured him, glancing down. His arms were swathed in a downy roan-coloured shawl. Like the robes the receiving party had worn, it was elegantly embroidered with black and gold. "Where did you get this?"

"Someone must have noticed we don't have much in the way of luggage. They just dropped off a few bags of gifts."

"It's beautiful."

"So are you."? Han kissed her eye and walked her toward the window. Each wing had its own private double tinted balcony; an indoor section, shielded from inclement weather and winds by thick glass, and an outdoor section protected by a meandering balustrade that appeared more ornamental than functional.

She told him about her feeling that Yashuvhu was somehow familiar. Han agreed it was likely that her years of traveling were melded together, but he thought she should check to see if her brother was picking up the same vibes. And he told her the guide was disturbing.

He said. "They have a crazy sort of open marriage market, and by market, I mean market, with credits and bids."

Leia wrinkled her nose. "Sarin alluded to it. I know that women are considered transferable property. Father to son. Son to husband. Husband to sons. They're discouraged from working and forbidden from governing."

The winds howled bitterly and the encroaching seedstorm was still a violet darkened even on the horizon. There was something asthenic about being trapped in doors during inclement weather, almost lazy.

Yesterday she'd settled for Han promising nothing would be said unless her brother asked him directly. It was the best he'd been willing to give and she'd taken it, knowing he wouldn't change his mind and that if their situations were reversed, and he'd been asking her to lie to Luke, she would have refused to do it. Her own hypocrisy had been apparent to her before she'd even left the Falcon, though she hadn't been willing to admit it. There remained a few other items of interest she'd yet to share with her brother. They weren't secrets, but they tapped too deeply into her life of late, too deeply into the insecurities she'd been facing on Baskarn.

But she told Han. "Before the Jedi here were murdered, there were special roles designated for women who were Force sensitive here. They were – Sarin said they were selected to carry children for the Jedi, and that they were deeply honoured by the people."

Han made a disgruntled sound under his breath. "They gave up their children?"

She nodded. "Many of them did. He said not all but I got the impression most did."

Consciously or unconsciously his arms tensed around her. "You know, between the marriage markets and their old traditions, I'm starting to think maybe this wasn't the best world for you to make your debut as the sister of a Jedi."

Images of Han fighting off would-be-suitors darted through her mind. "That's silly."

"Is it? You and your brother both represent losses and tragedies in their past. People don't always like that. Sometimes it's hard to predict how they'll react."

Quietly, Leia found herself nodding in agreement. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but you're right. As for the rest... currently it's Luke they're eager to fawn over, not me. Hopefully they'll be equally eager to help him."

"Aha. That reminds me. We have an invitation to a welcome dinner at the residence of The Tas Mos'ir."