AN: Thanks again to everyone who is finding time to comment! And BreathingFlames - you're cheating : ) I am editing and correcting some parts of the story for posting here so there will be some differences. The version here is the more polished version. Anyway I'm thrilled that people are enjoying this...
All previous disclaimers apply...
Missing
XV.
"All I have is problems," Han Solo mumbled to himself, as the Millennium Falcon shot out of hyperspace in the wrong solar system. There was a grunted laugh in response to his moan and Han threw a dirty look to his partner. "Don't know what you're smirking about, Fur Face; you're one of 'em."
He ran his hands over the ship's controls, compensating for the slight pull of gravity that emanated from the grey, dead world they now skipped past. It was sheer luck that the failure of the nav-computer hadn't resulted in a quick death for them both, sheer luck that the co-ordinates had drifted into a civilised system "Just where in the hell are we, anyway?" he asked, staring at the orange sun he felt he should recognize.
Chewbacca pointed to the screens, which flashed out data on the system they were currently in the middle of.
"Hasthaal?" Han voiced his surprise as he read the print. "Hasthaal? That's no where near Raymar?" He turned accusingly to Chewbacca. "Did you uncross the navi-circuits like I said?"
Chewie nodded, trying to look as innocent as his Wookiee features would allow.
"Then it must be something else that's causing the drift," Solo mused over their problem. He was a little worried; not exactly for themselves, but the Ahana evacuation ships would arrive at Raymar without them, and without the field equipment some clever Rebel had stashed aboard the Falcon as she sat in the hangar. To say that Leia would be furious at their disappearance would be an understatement. But he couldn't trust the Falcon to get them to the Rebel outpost; besides the drift, their fuel was low, they were tired, and they had a ship to repair. He sighed and came to a decision. "We're goin' down."
His partner nodded again, agreeing, looking forward to scenery other than that of a Rebel base.
"Okay." Han adjusted speed as they made their approach towards a small blue planet nearer the sun. "Have we been here before?"
As he looked over the log, Chewie grunted that they had.
Han frowned. "Were we in trouble?"
There was a negative reply from the Wookiee, and Han grinned. "Good." That was one worry dealt with. "Still, I think we'd best use a cover."
Again, there was agreement from the Wookiee.
"Who were we last time we were here?" He glanced at the log, avoiding floating space debris at the same time. "Hmm... It's been a while since we've used that one; I wonder if… "
"Unidentified ship," the traffic controller's voice crackled into the cockpit, "state your registration and purpose of visit."
"No-nonsense like, ain't they?" Han adopted his business voice. "This is Captain Hanani Farrell, on board the freighter White Feather. Registration number…" He paused, flicking through his log. "II2987DC. We need to refuel and service our vessel."
Silence, broken by static. Han tapped his finger impatiently on the control board. Then…
"White Feather, II2987DC, you are cleared for landing; docking bay five."
"Thanks." A confident grin grew on Solo's lips. "You know, Chewie, I feel good about this place. Maybe we could hang around for a while; get a little action in before heading for Raymar. What d'you say?"
Chewbacca thought it was an excellent idea; a few days of hanging out would do them both good. But wouldn't the princess worry? He voiced his concern.
"Nah," Han drawled, forgetting his previous worries. "She don't own us."
The Falcon dropped into the clouds of Hasthaal, missing the enormous Imperial cruiser that moved out from the dark side of the planet; a new and permanent addition since their last visit.
ooOOoo
A soft night breeze rustled through the branches of the trees, and whispered prayers in the undergrowth. Crickets twittered and chirped, giving vent to their quiet choruses. The cloudless sky cast no shadow over the planet, and hid nothing from the observant Rebels who had set up their post here. The structures of their base lay concealed among the trees, safe from prying eyes, but all too apparent to prying sensors. However, this was a danger any revolutionary organization faced, anywhere in the universe, and mainly they learned to live with the constant tension.
Leia Organa rested against the wall of her makeshift quarters, staring at the sky, searching among the stars for all the answers to all her problems, and wishing that someone would wave a wand to make the Empire disappear and give her back her home and family. Giggles from behind the bushes brought a small smile to her lips. Wedge and Kandi emerged from the flora, brushing leaves and dirt from their clothing. They wiped the grins from their faces as they passed the princess, calling a quick greeting. Then they were gone, laughing again, and Leia was alone once more.
Her eyes went back to the clear heavens, and her mind returned to her troubling thoughts. The Empire had won again. Ahana was lost, betrayed, taking with her many friends and much-needed equipment. They had run again, putting an added burden on Jan Dodonna and his outpost. But where else could they go? They had lost fighters, including two of the reinforcements. Could the Minoan assault go ahead? And where the hell was Solo?
"Is it private thoughts? Or can an old man join you?"
Dodonna's sudden appearance startled her. "General!" She smiled, gesturing at the stars. "I was day dreaming."
"At this time of the night?" he quizzed. "Besides, daydreams don't cause frowns to cross pretty faces."
Leia glanced at her feet and sighed. "Where have we gone wrong?" she asked suddenly, angry at not having the answer herself. "After Yavin, after the Death Star, we were all on a high. But now…" Exasperated, she shrugged her shoulders. "Now all we do is run... I'm scared, Jan," she confessed, her voice trembling. "I'm scared that one day we'll lose whatever it was we had, and be overrun. I mean, we've failed in everything we've tried lately."
Dodonna put a comforting arm arround the girl, looking so young and frail in her distress. "You know as well as anyone, your highness, that in war, especially one like this, you can't expect to win all of the time. What happened at Yavin worked both for and against us. We showed the galaxy that the Empire isn't indestructible; but we also brought the whole of the Empire down on top of us. We had false optimism and a new hero; but now the Empire's hitting back, and we've lost the hero. We feel as though we're losing everything. But we can't ever let our morale ebb. We have to remember Yavin, and tell ourselves that we can do that again." He smiled into her troubled eyes. "And our chance to win again is with your planned Minoan assault."
"Do we have enough men?" Scepticism dragged on the ends of her words.
"More than enough. You forget, Raymar is bigger than Ahana. And Narra has assured me that with the help of his officers, he has just enough time to train our pilots in the techniques you've been using for the attack."
Relief played over her features and sparkled in her eyes. "That's good news, General, but..." She tilted her head upwards once more.
Dodonna followed her gaze, knowing her thoughts and feelings. "You're alone."
She turned to him, confused. "What?"
"You miss Solo, and young Luke." Leia looked away to deny it; but he didn't let her. "Leia, when Han was here he told me how you reacted to Luke's death, and…"
"Did Wedge tell you what happened at Ahana?" Anger bit the sentence.
The elderly general nodded. "Lieutenant Antilles was worried about you, Leia. You're usually so rational; but going back for Luke's lightsabre was…"
"Irrational?" Leia finished his sentence for him. "Jan, I know what you're thinking, I know what Wedge is thinking; but for some reason I had to get that sabre." Frustration from not knowing how to express herself built in Leia. "I… I just feel as though Luke isn't dead."
"Then why doesn't he get in touch?"
"Maybe he's tried, but can't, Jan. Maybe he's just hiding out until he gets the opportunity to get off Irlam. The planet's pretty much locked down and… I'm afraid he may have been caught…"
Dodonna draw her closer. "Leia, torturing yourself like this will only make you ill. It's been weeks now and we've not heard anything from the system either from Luke or through the Imperial channels about any prisoner - don't forget Vader himself has been looking for him. We would know if they had him. Let yourself grieve for him, Leia"
He felt her relax a little. "Maybe you're right," she said softly. "But the longer he's gone, the more I feel he's alive." She shook her head, dislodging a strand of dark hair. "With both Han and Luke away, I feel incomplete. Does that make sense to you?"
"Of course. You three spent so much time together after your little adventure that you grew close very quickly. When one or two of you are gone, you're no longer whole. But…" He paused and grinned. "Your diplomatic training doesn't help you hide your feelings; when someone even mentions Solo's name, your eyes sparkle! "
She blushed, shook her head in denial. "He annoys me!"
Dodonna laughed lightly at her protest. It was his turn to look to the stars, almost expecting to see a familiar saucer-shaped freighter. "I wouldn't worry too much about Han if I were you; he'll be back."
"You're sure?" She couldn't lose them both.
"I'm sure. Han is more of a Rebel than we'll ever be."
They laughed, and it felt good to hear as it resounded in the cool night air.
"Now," Dodonna spoke firmly, "I came out here for a reason. This old man is looking for a game of Corrichip; and you are the only person around here who I haven't beaten, so…"
"You want a chance to beat me?" Leia copied Solo's cocky tones. "You won't win, you know."
"We'll see," Dodonna chuckled.
Arguing softly, they walked toward the recreation centre. An infantryman passed them on the forest path. Leia recognized him as the sergeant who had survived the Irlam mission with Wedge. He smiled and said hello before disappearing into the trees. Leia's spirits lifted a little more; it was good to see a familiar face from Ahana.
ooOOoo
"Starlight and moons..." sang Han, loudly and off-key. He twisted the ends of three wires together and reached into the workings of his ship. "Pretty ladies with pink - ouch!" He quickly withdrew his hand and stared at the bright red burn mark. "Oh! Ah!" He blew on the wound, cursing himself for not switching the section off before starting to work on it. "Ow!"
Chewbacca sighed in relief as he heard the sounds of pain. There was no torture worse than Han Solo in a good mood, especially if that same Han Solo decided to give a rendition of his favourite songs.
Han heard the loud sigh. "You're just jealous 'cos you can't sing!" he bellowed good-naturedly.
Chewie growled a "Neither can you!" from across the hold.
"Great," Solo grumbled. "Just what I need, a smart-mouthed Wookiee." He pushed himself up from the floor and stretched, wincing as a joint cracked. He yawned. "I'm famished. How about you, Chewie?"
The Wookiee shook his head, turning his gaze away from his captain. He buried himself in his repairs, mumbling something Han didn't catch. But Solo recognized the guilty look; he'd seen it before.
"Aw, Chewie--you haven't cleared the stores again?"
A slight, ashamed nod was his answer.
"Hell, those steaks cost me both arms and legs." He sighed, annoyed. "Did you leave the fruit?" he asked hopefully.
A negative reply.
"That's the last time I leave you alone in this ship when the store's full." He threw himself onto a recliner. Then suddenly he sat up, a little brighter. "Hey, those Rebel boxes - are there eats in there?"
Another negative reply.
"Yeah, I figured you might have looked. Just my luck to have an empty stomach for a partner." He rolled his shirt sleeves down and reached for his vest, feeling in its pockets for some cash. He counted the coins and grinned; just enough for a meal and a couple of drinks. "I'm goin' to the cantina; you coming?"
Again, the hairy Wookiee shook his great head. No, he wanted to get the circuits back together. Besides, he wasn't very hungry.
"Please yourself."
Han drew in a deep breath of polluted air as he stretched, once again, in the city street outside the docking bay. He glanced up at the crowds, letting his eyes roam over the different life forms, the different fashions, and the different weapons many members of the crowd wore. He winked at a passing human female. He felt good. He felt free. He and Chewie were on their own again; no Rebels here to hassle them or plead with their consciences. Here, there was only the kind of freedom he enjoyed best. He was his own boss, and he was reluctant to give it up again. During the two days since he and Chewbacca had landed on Hasthaal, they had been playing with the idea of selling the Rebel equipment and disappearing, never to return to the Alliance; but so far they had resisted the temptation. But his feeling was to get a job and pay the Hutt his debt. Jabba was getting annoyed with him. Once that debt was paid, then he really would be free.
He stepped out into the street, joining the waves of life forms, enjoying the aromas emanating from the restaurants and stores, and listening into several conversations in several languages. He quickened his step as he spotted the bar in which he and Chewie had spent many hours and many credits. A grin flickered on his lips: such was life. He ducked into the doorway, relishing the savory smells that tickled his olfactory sense.
He stopped and blinked in surprise. He was flooded with lights that were set up just inside the entrance. Holo-cameras pointed at him from all angles; someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to find a microphone thrust under his chin. Suddenly panicked, he hid his face behind his hands. The patrons at the bar counter laughed.
"Sir," warbled the purple, buck-toothed creature that brandished the mike, "we're conducting a survey for a consumer program. Can we ask you a few questions?"
"No," Han said, his voice muffled under his hands. "Go away." He was a little scared. Here he was, in the middle of a bar, accosted by a film crew. His face would be broadcast the-gods-knew-where, and the-gods-knew-who would be watching! He could not afford this.
"Sir, surely you have some contribution to make?"
"No." Han's voice was low, warning. "No comment." Beneath his panic and anger, he felt a little satisfaction; he'd always wanted to say that. He fought to push his way through the crowd of technicians and customers.
The interviewer was not easily put off. "But, sir—"
Han walked into a camera, and the microphone was once more pushed in his face. Enough was enough. He shoved the interviewer to the side and threw a desperate punch at the cameraman. He did not want his face broadcast. The camera fell to the floor, and Han was suddenly grabbed from behind. He bent forward, pulling on his assailant's arm at the same time. The man flew forward over Solo's shoulder and crashed onto a table. It was then that he noticed the greenuniform of the Hasthaal police unit. He groaned and turned to run, stepping on the fallen cameraman in the process. He reached the door only to find the exit blocked by the partner of the fallen officer. Behind him, the film crew picked up the pieces and laughed as the spacer was placed under arrest.
"All I have is problems," was Solo's only comment as he was led out the door.