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Missing

XIX.

It was like stepping into another time. A thick, plush carpet covered the floor, giving warmth and comfort for walking; colourful wall decorations played mind's delight with the senses; expensive, antique furniture added extra richness to the room. A log fire popped and crackled pleasantly in a large, ornate fireplace, casting a pale orange-yellow glow over the luxury. Only the hard plastic holocubes along the mantle piece, and the computer console on the desk, spoke of modern times. Even the Holonet unit was disguised in dark wood to fit in with its surroundings.

Han Solo let his eyes trip along the cosy room. He felt totally incongruous in such opulence, and totally uncomfortable, despite the soft, snug chair in which he sat. This had been a surprise. He pushed himself from the chair and paced the floor, impatiently waiting for his host to arrive. When he had been picked up, he had expected a long charge sheet to be read out, and a cold, black cell. But not this. It wasn't that he was unhappy with the situation, just surprised; and Solo hated surprises. When it came to Imperials that usually meant they were up to something.

He stepped up to the fireplace, letting the heat warm his legs as he stared at the numerous holocubes. They were mainly family pictures, smiles in exotic settings. They were also full of Imperial uniforms. He lifted one, smiling at the image of a young, dark-haired woman holding a newborn child.

"Captain Hanani Farrell?"

Han quickly replaced the holo and turned to face the unexpected speaker. It was an Imperial General. The soldier spoke again. "It is Hanani Farrell?"

Han nodded, still recovering from the shock of finding himself with company; he hadn't heard the door open.

The General seated himself behind a large desk. When he smiled at Han, dimples danced in his cheeks, giving him the appearance of youth, and near vulnerability. But Han knew that no man got so high in the Imperial Army by being weak.

"I think not," he said in answer to Han's nod; his voice was clearly cultured.

Han blinked, suddenly worried.

The Imperial continued, "Captain Han Solo of the Millennium Falcon, you've caused the Empire quite a bit of trouble through the years with your illicit activities. But now it seems you have become more of a Rebel." He gestured to the chair opposite him.

Feeling somewhat hostile, Han refused to sit. "If you know who I am, then why the charade? Why not just lock me away?"

"Because, Captain, I am in your debt."

Han sat. "Huh?"

"Two years ago, you were on Zerain III when that moon was destroyed by a meteorite."

Han nodded; he remembered the destruction of the little paradise well.

"After you and your partner had made your escape, you discovered a stowaway; a little boy who had been placed on your ship by his mother."

Han started to catch on. He and Chewie had been on a job for Jabba the Hutt, smuggling a shipment of stolen blasters, ammunition packs and a significant amount of spice, when the meteor had struck. It hadn't been instant destruction, but the rock had been so large as to disrupt the moon's gravity and upset the atmosphere. Death had been slow suffocation for millions. He and Chewie had grabbed what they could and run, ignoring the dead woman lying at the bottom of the ramp to the Falcon. It hadn't been until they had made the jump to light speed that they had found the child in a closet, crying for his mother...

"Oh, hell!" was Han's immediate moan. "A kid! Just what we needed!"

Chewbacca glanced reproachfully at his captain and lifted the child from the cupboard. It was then that they noticed the black, scaled-down Imperial uniform the child wore.

"A little Imp - as if the full-sized ones aren't enough trouble!"

The little boy howled louder, clinging to Chewbacca and pushing his thumb into his mouth. The Wookiee growled softly, not wanting to frighten the small human any more, but wanting Han to be sensible about the situation.

"Sensible?" Han rasped, sitting down behind the game board. "We can't take a kid to Jabba."

Chewie's next answer upset Solo even more.

"Drop him off somewhere? Chewie!" He gestured at the floor. "We've got a hold full of guns!" His mouth clamped shut suddenly, as the boy's eyes widened at the mention of the guns. "Damn," Han mumbled, glancing at the airlock. He rose from his seat and crouched on the floor next to Chewbacca, at eye level with the child. "Hi," he said quietly.

"Hi," the boy replied, through his thumb.

"What's your name?"

"Derry."

Han felt foolish. He had never been good with children, and yet for some reason, they always took to him. "How old are you, Derry?"

"Four."

Han frowned and then looked resigned. He glanced up at Chewbacca. "Where's the nearest space port?" He hoped Jabba believed his excuse for the late delivery.

"That little boy was my son," the General finished, as he rose from his seat and crossed the office to a small bar.

"I was only too glad to do my bit." Han accepted the drink the Imperial offered. He sipped at it cautiously, before downing half of it.

"Anyone else might have pushed a stowaway out the airlock."

Han finished his drink before answering, "I'm not anyone else."

The soldier laughed, "Indeed, not."

The door to the office behind Han slid open, and Chewbacca entered, carrying a small boy. The child still wore a uniform, but he was a little taller and his was face thinner having lost the chubbiness of an infant. He turned to Han, disarming the smuggler with a beaming grin. The Wookiee placed Derry on the floor and he ran the few meters to Han, wrapping his arms around Solo's neck.

"Uh—hi, kid."

The Imperial smiled at Han's embarrassment. "You'll both stay for dinner?"

Chewbacca nodded furiously.

Derry squeezed Han's neck more. "Please," he pleaded.

Han shrugged. "I guess that's decided; we'd be delighted, Major."

ooOOoo

"Remember," Narra emphasized the word for his attentive audience, "we won't be alone up there. This is a munitions plant and a governor we're going after. Minoan is heavily defended at the best of times; but for Amand's visit, security will be even tighter. We're only sixty fighters against well, I wouldn't like to estimate how many TIEs. What is important is that we make as much noise and cause as much damage as we can, to take their attention from the ground squad. Governor Amand is the main target."

He paused and grinned. "We're there as the percussion."

There was tight laughter from the assembled pilots in the briefing room.

"Okay," he continued, "get to your fighters, and we'll have another run-through."

Groans were his answer, as the pilots reluctantly pulled themselves from their seats.

"Hey," Narra shouted, in good humour, "like I said before, I want you to practice this attack in your dreams!"

There were several calls of "We already do!" in response. The commander smiled; things were progressing well.

"Commander?"

He looked up to see Wedge fighting his way in through the door, as the pilots exited. He frowned in annoyance. "Why weren't you at the briefing, Lieutenant?"

"I was aiding General Dodonna, sir," Wedge explained hastily. "He would like to see you, sir. He says it's important. "

"Something wrong?"

Wedge shrugged. "I don't know."

Narra looked to the now-empty room. "Okay, Antilles; you take them up and put them through their paces. I'll be there when I can."

Wedge grinned widely, his dark eyes sparkling. "Yes? Sir!" The commander strode from the room. "Commander Antilles," Wedge whispered. "I like it!" He ran to join his comrades.

ooOOoo

Dodonna waited until his staff was seated and silent before he stood and explained why he had summoned them. His face was grave and his voice terse when he spoke. "We've intercepted an Imperial transmission coming from Ahana." He stared at the princess. "They know there's to be an attack."

"How?" Leia's voice was an incredulous gasp.

"An informer?" Rieekan's face was pale. Like Leia, he supported the theory that Ahana had fallen because of a traitor to the cause.

Narra simply shook his head sorrowfully, thinking that all his pilots' hard work had been in vain.

"No," Dodonna answered Rieekan, "not an informer - a computer."

"The Ahana data banks?" Nara asked.

Dodonna nodded.

"But R2 wiped them!" Leia protested, anger at this new set back beginning to assert itself. "They were clear!"

"You told me yourself there was damaged, Leia," Jan spoke softly, trying to pacify her. "Obviously, you weren't able to clear everything."

"I should have blown the damned thing up!" She was venomous. "That's it, then - the attack is off."

"Not so fast," the elderly general was laughing, "none of you let me finish." He caught all of their gazes. "I was going to add that, although the Empire knows there is to be an attack, they don't know when and, more importantly, they don't know where." He let the information sink in, and was relieved to see smiles curling his audience's lips. He continued, "Security for any event in the next few weeks will be even tighter than we've planned for, so I know we are short of men, but it's my proposition that we…"

"Pick a decoy," Narra pounced on his superior's idea.

Rieekan nodded rapidly, liking the proposal. "We attack a separate Imperial site, a few hours before hand, let them think that's the big attack, and then launch for Minoan."

"We can afford one squad from the Minoan assault, and one of the reserve squads." Narra was counting his men. "If it's a small site that we hit, that is."

Dodonna shrugged slightly. "That's what we're here to discuss. The site has to be big enough for the Imperials to notice, yet small enough for two squads to handle."

"Irlam," a quiet female voice interrupted.

The three men turned their attention to the princess.

"Irlam," she repeated, emphasizing her suggestion.

"Your Highness," Jan spoke softly, picking his words carefully, "we all know what Irlam means to you, but - "

"No, wait, General," Narra broke in. "Lieutenant Antilles was on the mission to that planet. His report stated that there were several Imperial settlements, including one huge installation; a lot of personnel, a lot of hardware -"

"Then we avoid it," stated Rieekan.

" - but no pursuit." Finished Narra. "There were no destroyers."

"You're sure?" Jan was still sceptical.

"Not one fighter was scrambled to pursue them."

Leia's eyes sparkled brightly; hope, touching on the border of excitement, flared within her. "Jan, please? Irlam."

Dodonna looked to Rieekan and Narra; both men nodded. "I think it's too early to make a firm decision. But we should make preparations and we'll need new Intel on Irlam," he said. He turned to Nara. "Commander, if you can select squads then, and I'll trust you to find someone to command them. We all have much to do if we have two attacks to pull off."

The meeting was adjourned. Narra quickly left the room, suddenly remembering that Wedge was in temporary command of the Minoan practice. Rieekan quickly followed him, leaving Dodonna and Leia alone.

Leia broke the silence that had fallen over the chamber. "I know what you're thinking, Jan." Dodonna didn't answer. "You think I'm obsessed with the idea of Luke being alive."

The general sat next to her, hesitantly putting his arm around her shoulders. "Leia," he said quietly, softly, "why insist on punishing yourself? I had hoped you had decided to let the dead stay dead."

She turned her head to look at him, noticing how tired his eyes had become, how grey his hair was, how his skin had cracked and wrinkled, and how much he cared about the young princess next to him. In that moment, he looked like her grandfather. "If we hit Irlam it would be my chance to find out the truth; perhaps Luke's chance to return to us."

"And if he doesn't?"

Leia closed her eyes; saw Luke lying dead in the grass by the remnants of his X-Wing; saw Luke bound against a wall and an interrogation droid hovering close by; saw Luke running toward his rescue party a smile of relief lighting his features. She sighed; troubled, wondering which one of her thoughts was the truth. Wondering what had really happened to her young friend.

"Leia?" Dodonna prompted.

"If he doesn't," she replied, softly, sadly, "then I'll accept he's gone."

ooOOoo

Han relaxed back in his chair, letting his hand stray to his full stomach, while he accepted a fourth glass of wine from his host. He sipped at its sweetness and smiled at Derry, who was playing with Chewbacca on the floor of the dining room. He turned back to the major and made a toasting gesture before sipping again from his glass.

"That was quite a meal, General."

"I'm pleased you enjoyed it, Captain. Having an inheritance means that I can afford the best cooks on Hasthaal."

"We may visit more often," Han laughed; then he grew serious. "Thanks again for saving my ass from prison."

The man smiled and, for the first time, Han did not squirm at the sight of a grinning Imperial. He liked this man. "As I said, Captain, it's my way of thanking you for saving Derry's life."

"I hope we don't get you into trouble."

"You haven't, and you won't. I'm in command of this sector."

Although he didn't know it, Han's face showed plain relief.

The General continued, "If I had wanted to arrest you, I wouldn't have given you dinner first. You may be a Rebel, but -"

"Ah," Han interrupted, sitting up straight despite the load in his stomach, "perhaps you could set the record straight on that. See, Chewie and me are independent businessmen. We work for whoever pays the highest—and at the moment, the Rebs give me what I need."

The General laughed lightly, without malice. "But you did rescue the Princess Leia from the Death Star."

Han's face went blank, pale; Chewbacca paused in his game.

"Lord Vader's report on that incident was rather detailed," the Imperial explained.

Han relaxed again. "Oh, yeah; I got paid for that. But it was a mistake anyway."

The General raised his eyebrows. "A mistake?"

"We were headed for Alderaan, but the Death Star got in the way."

Again, there was delighted laughter. "You're quite a character, Captain."

Han scoffed. "So I've been told." He rose from his chair, walking to work off the heavy meal. He stepped over Chewbacca's legs as he admired the room and its rich, dark wooden panelling. "It's quite a place you have here."

"My family is nobility." The man sounded almost embarrassed. "Like I said, I have an inheritance."

Han was impressed. "Nobility, huh? What made you join the Imps?"

"It was the fashion at the time. You could say that I was caught up in a fad."

Han nodded absently as he spotted more holocubes on a side cabinet. One, a group picture, caught his eye. It was an Academy graduation, showing young men decked out in new Imperial dress uniforms. He picked it up and turned to his host. "Friends?"

The General joined him, then chuckled at the holo, which had obviously set off memories. "My graduating class. It's been a while since I've seen any of them." He began to point them out, telling Han their names and where they were now. "That's Jud; he's a commander now on some Star Destroyer. Both Marc and Jon died on the Death Star."

Han looked pained, almost guilty, but the major didn't notice; he was too wrapped up in the past.

"That's me, of course. This is Collan; he landed a snappy job with Intelligence, L'jon; now where is he?"

The Imperial's voice faded from Han's ears as his concentration stayed fixed on the previous classmate. Collan had a familiar face, one Han was sure he had seen many times - only it was older now, thinner; and his hair was greying, and his voice was soft and a little hoarse.

"I was the last one aboard, Captain Solo. Luke panicked under the flares; he was an easy target. I'm sorry, sir; he just didn't have a chance."

Han knew who Collan was. A member of the squad that was decimated on Irlam; the last one aboard the shuttle before it left. The quiet sergeant everyone liked, who melted out of mind once he was out of sight, whom no one really paid much attention to. The perfect Imperial plant.

"Is there something wrong, Captain?"

Han wiped the heavy frown he wore from his face and smiled. "Indigestion, I think. I ate too much." The General returned to his commentary, but Han had lost all interest. He wanted to get back to Leia - he wanted to warn her.