I'm so sorry about this issue with repeating chapters! Arg!!!! Try again. Please review!



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Han Solo wiped the perspiration from his forehead with a dirt-streaked hand and raised his comlink to his lips. "Antilles!" he shouted into it, throwing an icy glare at the innocent piece of metal and plastic in his fist. His voice reverberated oddly across the small valley of dank foliage and large, mossy trees. It was too green here for Solo's taste. Too green and too humid, he thought in annoyance as he swiped his sleeve across his forehead for the umpteenth time.



The Rogue's tinny reply was almost drowned out by the cackling and hooting cries of the local animal life, and Han, tired and frustrated, didn't bother to try to decipher it. "You told me this baby was fixed!" he hollered over the wildlife, redirecting his glare to the one mark of civilization on this ball of weeds.



The shield generator had to be close to thirty years old—and the decrepit hunk of spare parts certainly looked it—but the Alliance had had to once again resurrect it from the junkyard after the one on Hoth had been destroyed. Unlike Hoth's generator, this one consisted of four stations that jointly generated the shield over the base, which was somewhere in the middle. The problem with this design was that when one station malfunctioned—which these did with depressing regularity—the shield itself could be out of commission for days, not an exciting prospect to those of them that had to repeatedly repair it.



"What do you mean—isn't it working?" There was a reasonable amount of panic in Wedge's voice, tinny in the comlink speaker.



"No, Blast it," Solo growled, leaning his hand on the base of the metal tower. Some twenty meters up, where certain lights were supposed to be blinking, the bass humming of machinery making the ground pulsate underneath his feet, there was nothing. "I already ripped the coverplate open, and flipped every restart and override switch I could find. Lenee's back there right now fiddling with it, but I'm seriously considering either hotwiring the thing myself or just taking a hammer to the innards of this glorified trash can."



He could barely make out Wedge's strained laughter on the other end. "Is that supposed to be a threat or something, Solo?" he asked. "Well, my boys and I will meet you up there in a few minutes. I'll bring the hammer."



Han stalked around to the other side of the station, where Lenee Dow's voice could be heard muttering and cursing impressively in several different languages. Solo squinted in the dimming sunlight. Days on Tangrenenarr were unusually short—another issue that received a lot of complaining from the troops—but he felt the title of working all day hadn't been any less grueling to earn, despite the fact that results had been disappointing so far.



A bright blue flash illuminated the corrugated metal side of the tower and several sparks, along with an encouraging plume of smoke erupted from the repair panel. Lenee had jumped back with a cry of surprise and pain, mixed with several more choice expletives. Han hurried forward. "Are you okay, Lenee?"



The younger man scrunched his face up in an expression of defeat and frustration—one that Solo could readily identify with—and brought his injured hand out for inspection. There was a particularly nasty-looking burn across his palm, and he made another face. "I suppose I'll survive," he muttered sourly.



"Yeah," Han murmured, leaning forward to inspect the fried insides of the generator station. "This hunk of junk might be another issue, though. Tell Wedge to forget that hammer."



"Huh?"



Solo just shook his head, still studying the melted components. "Nothing. Why don't we head back to base to find a generator repair guy, and some medical attention for that burn of yours."



Lenee held up his hands in surrender. "You've got no argument here, Solo. Enough of this is enough."



"My sentiments exactly."





**





The new Rebel base was eventually to be a bunker of sorts, and with luck, everything would be safely underground, away from the host of ferocious animals thriving on the surface, among other things. The generator was only to be a temporary measure until the base was finished, meant to guard against these unwanted guests. Already, the carnivorous Krukkars—nocturnal beasts that were about three meters long and had many long, sharp teeth—had attacked two people. Naturally, after surviving the Empire relatively unscathed, the Alliance did not wish their numbers to be decimated by a mere pack of hungry animals if there was something that could be done about it.



Solo only hoped the generator station could be repaired. But for tonight, it looked as though they would have to station sniper guards on the perimeter again. General Madine was not going to be happy.



By the time Han pulled their speeder into the makeshift hangar it was almost completely dark outside, and nothing more could be done until the following day. "Okay," Han said, rubbing his hands together in mock excitement. "It's dinner time. Rations bars, here we come." Lenee exited his side of the speeder, pulling another face at Han's prediction.



"Then I suppose I won't be missing much if I go get this taken care of," he held up his hand, wrapped in the white gauze taken from the speeder's med-kit. "I'll be sure to report to you if the food's any better in the infirmary."



"Don't count on it," Han scowled. "Are you just going to leave me alone to face Madine? After you who were the one who fried that station in the first place?"



Lenee sighed. "No, I'll go report it on my way down."



"Okay, pal. See you later, then."



Solo turned and headed the opposite direction, looking for Leia.



**



Leia Organa was tired. And when she was tired she got irritable. And when she got irritable, heaven help any poor soul who got in her way, she thought wearily, checking her chronometer and feeling relieved to see it was time for the evening meal, such as it was.



She got up stiffly from her chair—in which she had been seated for the last four hours—and stretched tired muscles. The small cell-like cubicle that someone actually had the nerve to refer to as an office had been allotted to her to allow her the presence of mind to think clearly while she sifted through a good sized stack of reports, but all it had done for her was make her feel claustrophobic. And irritable.



The base was still in the process of being constructed and hewn out, and a lot more work was still in order. On her way out, Leia passed several Rebels tirelessly blasting out sections of the earthen wall, digging the bunker deeper into the ground. She shook her head, thinking that it was more than likely that as soon as the base was near completion, the Empire would find them and drive them out again. Like they had so many times before. Now she felt even more disheartened knowing that it was possible that the Rebellion's situation might never improve, that the Alliance might just spiral down until all resistance to the Empire was completely wiped out. She made a face. Now that wasn't a very cheerful thought.



"Hello princess, are you ignoring me today?" asked a familiar voice to her right. Leia started. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed Han coming toward her. He looked more exhausted than she was; his hair unruly, his clothes rumpled and dirty, and a long streak of dirt across his forehead. There was a lopsided smile on his face.



"Oh, Han," Leia tried to smile back. "I didn't see you."



"So I noticed." He came forward to embrace her, but she caught his hands before he could touch her.



"Oh no you don't," she laughed shortly, eyeing his dirt-streaked self and then nodding toward the sleeve of her starched, white jumpsuit. "I'm clean, and I'd like to stay that way."



"So my hands are dirty," he shrugged, looking hurt. "What are you afraid of?"



Leia tried not to smile as they circled. "What have you been doing all day anyway? Wrestling with Duluulian mud bunnies?"



"If I told you the truth, you wouldn't be nearly as impressed."



"Try me."



His hands shot out lightning fast, seizing Leia's upper arms. She got out a brief laughing shout of surprise before he silenced her with a long kiss.



A moment later, they pulled apart, realizing that they were attracting a small audience of amused Rebels, desperate for entertainment. Solo took her hand, guiding her to a smaller, unused corridor where they could be alone. "I love you, nerf herder," Leia whispered, kissing him again.



Han gave her a lopsided smile, their faces still inches apart. "Do you?" he asked.



"Yes."



"Then why don't you marry me?" he suggested.



She drew back in surprise. "What?"



Han's smile grew wider. "I said why don't you marry me?"



Her first reaction was one of shocked, giddy elation. She loved him with all her heart, and could think of nothing more reasonable.



Her second reaction following on the heels of the first covered up her excitement with guilt. What was she doing having a personal life here, when there was so much to be done; when throughout the galaxy a war viciously raged on?



Leia realized she was shaking her head, oblivious to Han's puzzled frown. "I don't think I can," she murmured.



Solo's expression was giving away to genuine hurt. "Why?" he demanded. "What's wrong?"



Leia just shook her head again. "The war. It's still going—they still need me. It's not over yet."



"The war may never be over," he pointed out. "When are you going to begin to live? Are you going to let a couple of goons like Vader and Palpatine rule your life and dictate your happiness?"



"No," she said slowly, not sure she could make him understand—not sure if she herself understood her own duties and her loyalty to them. But he was right. Despite the galaxy's turmoil, she still had to go on with her life.



The reticence was slowly dissipating, and her mind smiling happily knowing that Han loved her enough to want to spend the rest of his life with her. It was possible that after everything that had happened, there could still be happiness in store for her down the rough road.



Leia let a crooked smile of her own come to her face as she brushed at a dirt smudge on her shoulder. "Aren't you supposed to get down on one knee for this, Solo?" she asked.



The grin reappeared, wider than ever. "Only if you'll say yes," he replied, eyes sparkling.



"It's a deal."





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