Sorry for the long break in between things, but I just got finished up with
finals and stress and now have a little vacation in which I hope to finish
this story. Thanks for being such a great audience. T.
Han Solo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, resisting the temptation to glance at his chrono for the second time in five minutes. Leia would probably chide him for poor etiquette later, but this meeting had gone on for more than an hour, far exceeding his short attention span.
"We will plan on sending a small convoy of delegates to Anroth," Mon Mothma was explaining. "No more than five or six will be necessary, but they must be carefully chosen. Considering the wealth of resources that they have to offer, having this planet join our side would be a definite boon for the Alliance," she spread her hands. "And since their people have been so betrayed by the Empire, it doesn't seem as though it will be very difficult to convince them."
"But the human chauvinism of the Empire might lead them to believe that every organization behaves in the same fashion," Ackbar added. "Therefore, it is important that we show them that the Alliance is different."
Mon Mothma nodded. "You have a good point, Admiral," she agreed. "It would be best, for this trip, to send delegates that are not only human, but a variety of species."
"Admiral, it seems you fit the very job description," Leia remarked with a smile.
Ackbar half turned to her, his expression holding the faintly identifiable Mon Cal expression of a grimace, seeing that he had backed himself into a corner.
"I agree," Mon Mothma nodded, folding her hands. "Admiral? Would you go?"
Ackbar nodded his bulbous head. "Of course," he replied.
"I nominate Nien Numb as another potential candidate," Lando spoke up. "He flew copilot for me at Endor, and though I'm not quite sure of his skills as a diplomat, he is a Sullustan." The Baron Administrator shrugged.
"What about Chewbacca?" Madine asked, directing the first question at the thus-far ignored Solo. "Would he be willing to steer toward the delicate field of diplomacy?"
"I honestly don't know," Han admitted. "Probably. I'd have to ask him though, before I committed him to anything."
"Of course."
"Unfortunately, our time for this meeting has run out," Mon Mothma interjected. "I'm afraid we will have to continue making this list when we meet again day after tomorrow. Until then, I know we all have other matters to attend to."
Everyone stood. Solo had to bite his lip to keep from vocally expressing his relief as he took his wife by the elbow, saying their quick good-byes. He escaped the small conference room as if he would suffocate if he stayed there any longer.
"You look green," Leia laughed as the door slid shut behind them, leaving them alone in the narrow, metallic corridor. "Are the meetings really this awful to you?"
"You have no idea," Han groaned. "If I had known just what accepting position as a general would include, I would never have been stupid enough to agree. I don't know how you can get through these little get-togethers with your sanity intact."
"Only a talented few are capable of such a feat," she agreed gravely.
The door behind them hissed open and shut again and they turned together to see Lando flash them a white smile.
"Han, ol' buddy," he slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Flight drill is in an hour. Are you planning to be there?"
"Unfortunately," Solo scowled. "Why?" His eyes narrowed. "It wouldn't have anything to do with wanting to borrow the FALCON, would it?"
Lando held his hands up innocently. "Would I want anything to do with the FALCON?" he asked.
"That's what I want to hear," Han nodded. "We'll see you in a little while, pal."
"What is this all about?" Leia asked her husband as he motioned for her to precede him into the waiting turbolift, casting a frown at Lando's departing figure.
"Nothing," he shook his head as the doors slid shut and the turbolift car shot upward with a brief sensation of zero-g. "Just the usual tiff about the FALCON. You know I won't let him within spitting distance of my ship."
"Of course I know," she laughed. "The latest news among the Rogues is that there's going to be a rematch of Sabaac between you and Lando. People are already placing their money on who's going to win."
"I can't believe you would stoop so low as to rehash Rogue gossip," Solo chided his wife. "I thought you were above such a thing." She only smiled sweetly.
They entered the corridor of their living quarters and Leia produced the thin plasteel card that would let them in. Being married had its advantages, Han reflected, one of which was a private room amidst the zoo of the Alliance base. As a result, he had found that he did not retreat to his ship nearly so often, as it was normally the only haven against the constant insanity of people around him everywhere.
"I was actually asking about where you have to be in an hour," Leia corrected her original question as she opened the door and flipped on a light.
"Oh, that," Han shrugged. "They're sending two squadrons to check out the nearest moon on this side of Salastor. They say it's habitable, and it's fairly close to the asteroid belt, so it could be useful to us-as long as no one else has gotten to it first."
"Not likely, way out here," she agreed.
"Well, hey, what are you doing in an hour?" Han asked. "You could come with us. It would just be us and Chewie on the Falcon."
Leia shook her head. "I don't really think so this time," she replied. "I haven't been feeling too great today, and I don't really think space travel would help my stomachache any."
Concern for his wife suddenly swept through Han. "Well, are you okay?" He asked. "You've been sick an awful lot these past few weeks-maybe you ought to see a medic about it."
Her face was grave. "Actually, I already have," she answered.
"Well?" Han prompted, frowning when she didn't elaborate. "It's nothing serious, is it?"
She cocked her head to the side, looking up at him from where she sat on the bed. "Yes. It's fairly serious." Her face was deadpan.
"Well?"
"I'm pregnant, Han."
Solo did a double-take. It took a moment for the words to register. "You're--you're WHAT?" he stuttered.
She grinned. "I'm going to have a baby," she repeated, laughing. "Dear, you look really white all of the sudden--would you like to sit down?"
Solo knew he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn't seem to help himself. "A baby?" he repeated, taking her slender hands in his.
"Yes," Leia nodded. "A baby. And you know what that means?" She pulled him down to sit by her. "Han Solo--you're going to be a daddy."
Solo laughed, and kissed her, suddenly picturing a pigtailed toddler running through the corridors of the base or riding on top of his shoulders as he spun her around. Who would have ever pictured him as a father?
"Yeah," he answered, kissing her again. "The engineers are going to have nine months to come up with the Alliance's first daycare."
"Yes," Leia agreed. "I guess we're going to have to start enlisting the Rogues for babysitting duty."
"But one of the best advantages of having a family," Solo grinned, "is that we're going to need a bigger room."
********
Mara Jade strode purposefully down the narrow, dimly lit hallway of the shabby, run-down hotel, the shrill objections of the infuriated landlady behind her going ignored.
The walls of the hallway were covered in faded, peeling paper and the floor was carpeted by a shaggy olive green rug that was ill-fit for the narrow space, the molding edges curling in the corners. Mara could imagine that the wood underneath was in also in a healthy state of decay.
"Wait a minute!" the sharp voice of the pursuing woman shrieked, her footsteps pounding the stairs behind Mara. "You can't come in here! You have no right! I'll call the authorities!"
The Emperor's Hand reached the room at the far end of the hall, stepping past the broken and splintered wooden door.
Four members of Imperial Intelligence stood around the rumpled bed in the corner of the room, facing the thin sallow-looking man who was seated almost defiantly on the corner, looking up at them. The small hotel room was grungy and dimly lit. Yellowing shades had been pulled over the window to block out Dorsa's fierce afternoon sunlight and the diffuse yellow glow made it difficult to distinguish faces, but Mara recognized the thin man even from the poor view she had of him.
One of the Imperials, who, judging by the telltale air of authority about him, was obviously the Captain, turned to Mara as she entered. He was young, with short dark hair and intense blue-gray eyes that were, despite Vader's derogatory comments regarding his Intelligence team, deadly calculating. "We've held him here, as per your orders," he told Mara.
"Good," she replied, motioning with her head toward the doorway. "Have someone get rid of that woman before I shoot her myself."
The captain nodded curtly, and a moment later, one of his subordinates stepped out to take care of it.
Mara stepped forward, cold green eyes boring into the sallow man's face. He stared back without flinching. "So," she said quietly, "you're Finsha Murdoch."
He raised his eyebrows patronizingly at her. "How very clever of Imperial Intelligence to catch on to such a pertinent piece of information so quickly. I'm very impressed."
Mara ignored his sarcasm. "We have learned from a reliable source that you have been dealing in stolen merchandise."
"That happens to be my job description," he agreed. "Though no one has ever seemed to care enough before to call it to the attention of the Imperial Brass. I should really be flattered."
"We care when you are dealing in this particular merchandise. Specifically, Imperial ships."
The smuggler's features hardened ever so slightly. "Then you've come to the wrong man," he told her. "I don't deal in ships."
"I hope you will weigh the risks of lying to me before you do it," Mara warned him. "Otherwise your mouth is likely to get you in very big trouble. Now, I just have a couple of questions for you, if you will kindly cooperate with me and answer them."
Murdoch didn't reply, so she continued. "The whereabouts of the actual ship concern me less than knowing where you got it from and who sold it to you."
The man shifted on the bed, frowning thoughtfully. "Well now, I don't know," he began. "You see, in this business, we smugglers watch out for each other. It just wouldn't be good ethics to sell-out on an associate like that."
Mara snorted in disgust. She could think of half a dozen things she would prefer to have happen to this man in order to make him tell, but she was short on time. "How much will it take?" she asked him.
Murdoch's features suddenly relaxed into an easy grin. "Well, if you put it that way, I can see room to negotiate. Maybe somewhere in the ballpark of 25,000."
Mara clenched her teeth to keep from snapping out a retort. "Fine," she growled.
"His name is Oswalth Rotulle.large guy," Murdoch gestured with his hands. "Smells of cigarra smoke, deals mostly in ships. He associates himself with pirate types like the Bahru when he wants to, but otherwise sticks to himself. I met with him in the Derra system, but usually he prefers the comforts of being close to home, which is on Caleight." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is that enough?"
Mara nodded her head. "It's a start." She turned to the dark-haired intelligence officer. "Captain, be sure that things are taken care of with this man."
Without waiting for either of them to reply, she turned and left the room, hurrying to her shuttle.
******
Han Solo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, resisting the temptation to glance at his chrono for the second time in five minutes. Leia would probably chide him for poor etiquette later, but this meeting had gone on for more than an hour, far exceeding his short attention span.
"We will plan on sending a small convoy of delegates to Anroth," Mon Mothma was explaining. "No more than five or six will be necessary, but they must be carefully chosen. Considering the wealth of resources that they have to offer, having this planet join our side would be a definite boon for the Alliance," she spread her hands. "And since their people have been so betrayed by the Empire, it doesn't seem as though it will be very difficult to convince them."
"But the human chauvinism of the Empire might lead them to believe that every organization behaves in the same fashion," Ackbar added. "Therefore, it is important that we show them that the Alliance is different."
Mon Mothma nodded. "You have a good point, Admiral," she agreed. "It would be best, for this trip, to send delegates that are not only human, but a variety of species."
"Admiral, it seems you fit the very job description," Leia remarked with a smile.
Ackbar half turned to her, his expression holding the faintly identifiable Mon Cal expression of a grimace, seeing that he had backed himself into a corner.
"I agree," Mon Mothma nodded, folding her hands. "Admiral? Would you go?"
Ackbar nodded his bulbous head. "Of course," he replied.
"I nominate Nien Numb as another potential candidate," Lando spoke up. "He flew copilot for me at Endor, and though I'm not quite sure of his skills as a diplomat, he is a Sullustan." The Baron Administrator shrugged.
"What about Chewbacca?" Madine asked, directing the first question at the thus-far ignored Solo. "Would he be willing to steer toward the delicate field of diplomacy?"
"I honestly don't know," Han admitted. "Probably. I'd have to ask him though, before I committed him to anything."
"Of course."
"Unfortunately, our time for this meeting has run out," Mon Mothma interjected. "I'm afraid we will have to continue making this list when we meet again day after tomorrow. Until then, I know we all have other matters to attend to."
Everyone stood. Solo had to bite his lip to keep from vocally expressing his relief as he took his wife by the elbow, saying their quick good-byes. He escaped the small conference room as if he would suffocate if he stayed there any longer.
"You look green," Leia laughed as the door slid shut behind them, leaving them alone in the narrow, metallic corridor. "Are the meetings really this awful to you?"
"You have no idea," Han groaned. "If I had known just what accepting position as a general would include, I would never have been stupid enough to agree. I don't know how you can get through these little get-togethers with your sanity intact."
"Only a talented few are capable of such a feat," she agreed gravely.
The door behind them hissed open and shut again and they turned together to see Lando flash them a white smile.
"Han, ol' buddy," he slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Flight drill is in an hour. Are you planning to be there?"
"Unfortunately," Solo scowled. "Why?" His eyes narrowed. "It wouldn't have anything to do with wanting to borrow the FALCON, would it?"
Lando held his hands up innocently. "Would I want anything to do with the FALCON?" he asked.
"That's what I want to hear," Han nodded. "We'll see you in a little while, pal."
"What is this all about?" Leia asked her husband as he motioned for her to precede him into the waiting turbolift, casting a frown at Lando's departing figure.
"Nothing," he shook his head as the doors slid shut and the turbolift car shot upward with a brief sensation of zero-g. "Just the usual tiff about the FALCON. You know I won't let him within spitting distance of my ship."
"Of course I know," she laughed. "The latest news among the Rogues is that there's going to be a rematch of Sabaac between you and Lando. People are already placing their money on who's going to win."
"I can't believe you would stoop so low as to rehash Rogue gossip," Solo chided his wife. "I thought you were above such a thing." She only smiled sweetly.
They entered the corridor of their living quarters and Leia produced the thin plasteel card that would let them in. Being married had its advantages, Han reflected, one of which was a private room amidst the zoo of the Alliance base. As a result, he had found that he did not retreat to his ship nearly so often, as it was normally the only haven against the constant insanity of people around him everywhere.
"I was actually asking about where you have to be in an hour," Leia corrected her original question as she opened the door and flipped on a light.
"Oh, that," Han shrugged. "They're sending two squadrons to check out the nearest moon on this side of Salastor. They say it's habitable, and it's fairly close to the asteroid belt, so it could be useful to us-as long as no one else has gotten to it first."
"Not likely, way out here," she agreed.
"Well, hey, what are you doing in an hour?" Han asked. "You could come with us. It would just be us and Chewie on the Falcon."
Leia shook her head. "I don't really think so this time," she replied. "I haven't been feeling too great today, and I don't really think space travel would help my stomachache any."
Concern for his wife suddenly swept through Han. "Well, are you okay?" He asked. "You've been sick an awful lot these past few weeks-maybe you ought to see a medic about it."
Her face was grave. "Actually, I already have," she answered.
"Well?" Han prompted, frowning when she didn't elaborate. "It's nothing serious, is it?"
She cocked her head to the side, looking up at him from where she sat on the bed. "Yes. It's fairly serious." Her face was deadpan.
"Well?"
"I'm pregnant, Han."
Solo did a double-take. It took a moment for the words to register. "You're--you're WHAT?" he stuttered.
She grinned. "I'm going to have a baby," she repeated, laughing. "Dear, you look really white all of the sudden--would you like to sit down?"
Solo knew he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn't seem to help himself. "A baby?" he repeated, taking her slender hands in his.
"Yes," Leia nodded. "A baby. And you know what that means?" She pulled him down to sit by her. "Han Solo--you're going to be a daddy."
Solo laughed, and kissed her, suddenly picturing a pigtailed toddler running through the corridors of the base or riding on top of his shoulders as he spun her around. Who would have ever pictured him as a father?
"Yeah," he answered, kissing her again. "The engineers are going to have nine months to come up with the Alliance's first daycare."
"Yes," Leia agreed. "I guess we're going to have to start enlisting the Rogues for babysitting duty."
"But one of the best advantages of having a family," Solo grinned, "is that we're going to need a bigger room."
********
Mara Jade strode purposefully down the narrow, dimly lit hallway of the shabby, run-down hotel, the shrill objections of the infuriated landlady behind her going ignored.
The walls of the hallway were covered in faded, peeling paper and the floor was carpeted by a shaggy olive green rug that was ill-fit for the narrow space, the molding edges curling in the corners. Mara could imagine that the wood underneath was in also in a healthy state of decay.
"Wait a minute!" the sharp voice of the pursuing woman shrieked, her footsteps pounding the stairs behind Mara. "You can't come in here! You have no right! I'll call the authorities!"
The Emperor's Hand reached the room at the far end of the hall, stepping past the broken and splintered wooden door.
Four members of Imperial Intelligence stood around the rumpled bed in the corner of the room, facing the thin sallow-looking man who was seated almost defiantly on the corner, looking up at them. The small hotel room was grungy and dimly lit. Yellowing shades had been pulled over the window to block out Dorsa's fierce afternoon sunlight and the diffuse yellow glow made it difficult to distinguish faces, but Mara recognized the thin man even from the poor view she had of him.
One of the Imperials, who, judging by the telltale air of authority about him, was obviously the Captain, turned to Mara as she entered. He was young, with short dark hair and intense blue-gray eyes that were, despite Vader's derogatory comments regarding his Intelligence team, deadly calculating. "We've held him here, as per your orders," he told Mara.
"Good," she replied, motioning with her head toward the doorway. "Have someone get rid of that woman before I shoot her myself."
The captain nodded curtly, and a moment later, one of his subordinates stepped out to take care of it.
Mara stepped forward, cold green eyes boring into the sallow man's face. He stared back without flinching. "So," she said quietly, "you're Finsha Murdoch."
He raised his eyebrows patronizingly at her. "How very clever of Imperial Intelligence to catch on to such a pertinent piece of information so quickly. I'm very impressed."
Mara ignored his sarcasm. "We have learned from a reliable source that you have been dealing in stolen merchandise."
"That happens to be my job description," he agreed. "Though no one has ever seemed to care enough before to call it to the attention of the Imperial Brass. I should really be flattered."
"We care when you are dealing in this particular merchandise. Specifically, Imperial ships."
The smuggler's features hardened ever so slightly. "Then you've come to the wrong man," he told her. "I don't deal in ships."
"I hope you will weigh the risks of lying to me before you do it," Mara warned him. "Otherwise your mouth is likely to get you in very big trouble. Now, I just have a couple of questions for you, if you will kindly cooperate with me and answer them."
Murdoch didn't reply, so she continued. "The whereabouts of the actual ship concern me less than knowing where you got it from and who sold it to you."
The man shifted on the bed, frowning thoughtfully. "Well now, I don't know," he began. "You see, in this business, we smugglers watch out for each other. It just wouldn't be good ethics to sell-out on an associate like that."
Mara snorted in disgust. She could think of half a dozen things she would prefer to have happen to this man in order to make him tell, but she was short on time. "How much will it take?" she asked him.
Murdoch's features suddenly relaxed into an easy grin. "Well, if you put it that way, I can see room to negotiate. Maybe somewhere in the ballpark of 25,000."
Mara clenched her teeth to keep from snapping out a retort. "Fine," she growled.
"His name is Oswalth Rotulle.large guy," Murdoch gestured with his hands. "Smells of cigarra smoke, deals mostly in ships. He associates himself with pirate types like the Bahru when he wants to, but otherwise sticks to himself. I met with him in the Derra system, but usually he prefers the comforts of being close to home, which is on Caleight." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is that enough?"
Mara nodded her head. "It's a start." She turned to the dark-haired intelligence officer. "Captain, be sure that things are taken care of with this man."
Without waiting for either of them to reply, she turned and left the room, hurrying to her shuttle.
******
