Firstmonth 1104
A/N: Han and Leia's game is borrowed from Ivylore's wonderful Renewal.
Once Luke was out of the medcentre-and flying, too, as soon as possible-Leia became a little more at ease. Her single-minded attention was now concentrated on rescuing Han Solo from whatever unsavoury den he was being held in. By contrast, the rest of the base became more cheerful as the holiday of Life Day approached. The routine went on as normal-rations and long shifts and the squadrons doing patrol, right up until Life Day Eve.
I came off shift that day, and had gone down to the fighter hangars to look for Vega. To my surprise, I found Tycho alone.
"Hi, Tycho! Where's Vega?"
"She's probably up in your room dolling herself up for the party."
"What party? Nobody tells me anything," I grumbled reflexively.
"Hey, I thought you knew. Well, on behalf of the squadron, I invite you to the Rogues' Life Day party. 2000 hours in Hangar Four. We're decorating it as I speak."
"Where did you get Life Day decorations on a starship?"
"Come and see," Tycho invited me. Hangar Four, the Rogues' own, was hiving with activity. Wedge was perched on an access ladder directing operations, Wes and Hobbie were tying coloured streamers onto the S-foils of the X-wings. A couple of technicians were pulling crates into a platform in one corner. There was a heap of green on the floor, which on inspection turned out to be flimsiplast packing. Three astromechs were slicing it with their circular cutting tools, and snipping and crimping it into an imitation of foliage.
"This is amazing," I said.
"We are Rogue Flight-amazing is our middle name!" Wes proclaimed from the nose of Tycho's X-wing.
"Except for Wedge-his middle name is-" Hobbie began, but was hastily interrupted by Wedge, yelling "Left, Klivian, left! That's as lopsided as a drunken nerf!"
Samoc Farr was overseeing the droids' artistic attempts, her cap of close-cropped red hair bent over the flimsiplast. I admired her courage, to go on flying after being shot down on Hoth. Bacta could heal the outer scars, but I knew the psyche was less easily repaired.
"Hey," she greeted me, waving a 'leaf' in my direction. "I suppose my sister and all your gang are coming down?"
"I don't know, I only heard about this a minute ago. I've been busy."
"Really? I thought the whole ship must have known, the amount of chatter there's been. Hopefully we'll have enough room-we've opened the entry to Hangar Three for the overflow. The band will be there-" she pointed to the platform of crates-"the sitters-out along that wall and the refreshments in the maintenance store. Mostly non-alcoholic-the hooch got left behind on Hoth."
"That would be the hooch I don't know about, so I can't report it, which I actually think is speeder fuel," a muffled voice said. I turned. The end X-wing was Luke Skywalker's, and he was standing halfway up the ladder, head and shoulders inside its lower access panel, affording a good view of his rear and his bootheels.
"It's all academic now we lost the stuff, Luke," Samoc said. "When I think of Vader and his troopers swigging our hooch...hey, reckon he drinks through a straw?"
She giggled. But she hadn't been looking in Luke's direction, and I had. He had gone instantly still at the mention of Vader. I nudged Samoc's arm, pointing my chin at Luke, and she mimed an exaggerated wince and slapped her forehead. There was an awkward silence, broken by Luke saying, "Artoo, can you get me a flux damper-see if this works?"
His blue astrodroid, busy shredding flimsiplast, bleeped rudely.
"Artoo-oo," Luke said reproachfully, pulling his head out of the innards of his X-wing and twisting round to look at the little droid. Samoc grinned cheekily.
"Aw, boss-we were enjoying the view!"
He flushed. "If you hadn't kidnapped my droid-"
I was sure I must have been blushing as well-to make matters worse, at that moment Wedge sang out, "Sa-moc! More green stuff!"
Samoc gathered up a double handful and ran off, leaving me with my feet locked to the floor with embarrassment. Luke muttered, "Oh, forget it, Artoo-" and raised a hand. Something tugged the corner of my attention, and I turned my head. The part had just flown from the open toolbox to his hand, in direct opposition to the ship's artificial grav field. My jaw dropped. I stared from Luke to the box and back again. He'd dived back into the access panel, and now turned a wry face to me.
"Nothing-zip, zero, nil."
"Unadh," I supplied automatically. He sat down on a rung of the ladder and grinned at me. His fair hair was very rumpled, he had a smudge of engine lube across his nose-and he had just moved something without touching it. I had of course heard of his rumoured Jedi powers, but an actual demonstration of them was a shock. He, however, was thinking of something totally different.
"It reminds me of that game Han and Leia play, when they see who-" he paused, and trailed off, "...can swear in the most languages."
Han Solo, I remembered, was his best friend as well as Leia's lover.
"I'm sorry I startled you," he said, swinging the flux damper between two fingers. "I tend to forget-"
"It's ok," I said, a disturbing thought striking me. "Can you do other Jedi stuff too? Can you-can you read my mind?"
"Oh." He shrugged. "Not what you mean-I can tell what you're feeling, if I'm paying attention-images maybe, if you're concentrating strongly on something. But not to say, "Oh, she's thinking, 'Rogue Squadron haven't got their reports in yet'-just that you were peeved about something."
"Can you tell what I'm feeling now?"
Let's hope whatever he was doing to the X-wing's guts was interesting...
"At this moment? Nosy."
I laughed, and changed the subject. "Did you know there's some sort of lifeform stuck to the underside of your X-wing's nose?"
He craned his neck. "So there is. Wonder how it got there? C'mere, little fella-"
He used the telekinesis thing again to pull the little star-shaped creeper from the hull, and dropped it to the deck. I made a stamp at it, but it avoided my boot and scuttled away under a crate.
"We'll have a plague of them now. I must say, that Jedi thing would come in handy for taking arachnids out of the fresher."
"You afraid of creepy things?"
"No-I'd rather not tread on them in my bare feet though."
"I can put up with anything but snakes."
"Snakes?" I asked, not recognising the Basic word. Luke made a wriggling motion with one hand and hissed.
"Oh, sislochi.They live-lived-in the mountains beyond Nangàl. They aren't that yicky."
"You wouldn't think that if you'd had them crawling up your trouser legs."
I couldn't hold in my laughter-evidently Jedi powers were no proof against curious reptiles.
"It wasn't funny," he protested, but the corners of his mouth were twitching reluctantly as well. I leaned on the access ladder, wiping my eyes.
"We're going to look good if the Imps attack-creepy-crawlies everywhere and flimsiplast leaves hanging off your S-foils."
He gave me an innocent blue glance. "They won't attack tonight-and anyway, I don't care, as long as there are no snakes!"
Back in my bunkroom, Vega was in her underwear, pinning up her hair. She gave a little squeal as I came in.
"Here you are at last-I ran your dress through the valet unit, and for pity's sake wash your face, it's dirty. Lucky you washed your hair this morning, and get a move on, will you?"
"I don't know that I want to go," I said, but I stripped off my uniform and began washing at the basin.
"Course you do, it'll be fun!" Vega said persuasively. I undid the ribbon that was holding my hair up, and it fell down my back in a tangled wavy mass. My white dress had done duty on gala occasions-the few of them there had been-for four years, and was holding up well.
"Can you do me up the back, Vega?" I asked, sliding my arms into the filmy sleeves. "And don't get lipstick on it!"
Vega was now wearing a sleeveless crimson dress with a short skirt and matching boots, and had just painted her lips that colour as well.
"That dress makes you look like the Princess," she remarked.
"Only without the figure or the looks," I retorted, brushing my hair.
Vega considered me, head on one side.
"You're not bad when you're clean," she grinned. "I mean, you have delicate bones and lovely clear skin and those big eyes. You just don't make enough of yourself. Finish your hair and I'll do your face for you, and you'll be gorgeous."
I left my hair down, twisting through it the silver chain Ari had given me when I turned twenty. In the military I had to be tidier than my hair liked, and I would give it free rein for once. Vega made up my face and turned me to her mirror.I looked at my own face in some surprise. I looked—older? Prettier? Definitely more like a woman than usual, in my Engineering Corps coveralls.
"We are the Rebels, young, brave and beautiful!" she proclaimed. "Let's knock 'em dead, Keit!"
"I don't want to impress people by looking pretty," I objected hotly. "Besides, it's so long since I've worn these heels I'll probably literally knock someone out as I fall over."
Vega laughed and slid her arm companionably into mine.
"C'mon!"
Hangar Four's makeshift decorations looked better with half the lights turned out. The band, perched up on their platform of crates, was playing a jizz tune as people flooded in. I saw Tycho, and waved. The band struck into a familiar Alderaanian tune. Vega squeezed my hand.
"Don't cry-your make-up will run," she whispered bracingly in my ear. I giggled, instead. Tycho arrived.
"You look great, Ve. Care to dance a ryla with me, Inia Abhram?"
I put my hands in his, and we danced an enthusiastic and technically flawless ryla, Tycho bending me back at the dips until my hair touched the floor. He released me, breathless, at the end, to Vega, who elbowed me and murmured, "When I said 'knock 'em dead', I didn't mean my boyfriend."
"Who else would I dance a ryla with, Vega? Anyhow, next one's yours."
He bore her off to dance a malkura, and a stranger with green eyes and fair hair claimed me. I spotted Leia at the far end of the hangar, dancing with Luke Skywalker. The next tune was Alderaanian again, a slow folk tune. I got rid of my nice stranger, having no desire to slow dance with him, and headed for the maintenance hangar, whistling the song under my breath. It was a very old one, about a girl whose lover had gone off to the wars, or something like that. Leia was standing alone by the doorway, looking as though she found the song rather too appropriate to her case.
"Hi," I said. "We used to sing that in singing class with Inia Salkar-oh, she used to despair of us! 'With feeling, children! It's not a shopping list!' and she would clutch her hair, only I can't show you because it would spoil my hairdo."
I stopped, having run out of breath, and Leia smiled.
"Poor thing-I'm sure you were a trial to her."
"Dan was worse," I said, reflecting that at least my singing lessons had deadened me to the impact of maudlin folk songs, if they were of no other use to me. Luke Skywalker appeared from the store, a glass in each hand.
"Here you go, Leia. Hi, Keitin. You're-you look taller."
I laughed, and waggled my foot at him to show my high-heeled white ankle boot. Leia shook her head.
"He means 'You look lovely, Keitin,' but he doesn't have enough manners to put it like that." She gave Luke a smile that took any possible sting from her words, and I suddenly felt excluded. The two of them with their invisible bond-whatever Leia felt for Han Solo could do nothing to change it. I was reminded of an Alderaanian word, lelketh, meaning 'brotherhood', more or less, in Basic.
"Hey, do you want that?" Luke held out his untouched drink to me politely. "I can get another."
"No, no. I can't steal your drink. I don't even like bliels that much."
"Sure?"
"I am perfectly capable of walking into that store and getting a drink for myself, even in these heels," I assured him.
I ducked under someone's elbow as I entered the store and got myself a huji. Returning to the doorway needed a dance as elaborate as any going on out on the floor. I leaned an elbow on the doorframe, watching and listening. It had always been how I spent parties, at home in Aldera. I remembered another ryla I had danced with Ari, on another Life Day three years before-it seemed very long ago.
Suddenly I realised-it didn't hurt. Thinking about Ari was bittersweet, but the cold ache, the pain that tore me apart, was gone. I held my breath for a few seconds, afraid to think, in case this miracle ceased. I examined my mood, but still no pain.
I let out the breath I was holding. I'm getting over it, I thought. That in itself hurt, that I could forget-no, not that!-that I could stop loving Ari and be happy again. but to go back, to wallow in it-that's stupid, I scolded myself. Whatever would Shamma think?
"You're looking pre-occupied," Leia said, and I jumped. I hadn't thought she was close to me. "Look after Luke while I go to the fresher, will you?"
I nodded. Luke was leaning on the wall, not looking in much need of looking after, but I moved to lean beside him anyway.
"Credit for your thoughts," I said.
"You'd have to pay more than that to get them out of me," he replied, mouth twisting wryly. I thought that whatever the thoughts were, they didn't seem to be very happy. I pitied him the more because I was feeling cheerful myself.
"Dance?" he asked, holding out his hands. We stepped out onto the floor, circling silently.
"Thank you for helping Leia when I was ill," he said suddenly. "It was awfully good of you when you have your own work to do."
"Oh," I returned, tipping my head so that I could see him properly-what with my high heels, our eyes were almost level. "I love her, you see."
He smiled, and said ingenuously, "So do I."
I decided suddenly that I liked him very much indeed.