Chapter Ten
Leia tried to focus on other work but didn't have much luck. She was feeling too nervous and excited, but mostly nervous. She had rehearsed her speech like she was giving a presentation. Like she was being graded on it. Of course, there was some truth to that. She needed to impress him, impress upon him, the importance of this endeavour.
"Why would he say no?" Han was slung over a pipe, reaching for a panel on the side of the maintenance pit.
Leia sat on the edge of the pit, legs swinging over the side. Her nervous energy was very apparent. Han could feel it from several feet away.
"We've asked a lot of him." She looked down, away from Han, for a moment. She didn't want to give away too much. "Pyrtor has almost nothing to do with the company. Or at least he didn't until he started helping us."
He didn't look up at her. He didn't want to see a look of sympathy for Pyrtor. He'd be only too happy if he could figure out a way to keep Pyrtor out of the conversation altogether. Might be hard, though, since they were on their way to meet him.
"His father has largely removed himself from the day-to-day operations. He doesn't get along with his sister who is essentially in charge. And if you think I'm tightly wound, you need to meet Dynsara." She kept her eyes down. "He worked hard to create his own identity, build his foundation up."
"His foundation that Thyre Industries funds." He scoffed.
"Your point?"
"He has plenty to do with the company but it's good PR to say he doesn't." He held his hand out toward Leia. "The ones with the red handle."
She held the tool slightly out of his reach until he said, please. They both rolled their eyes at each other and he bent toward the panel again.
It was a quick trip, not even an overnighter. A few hours to Dothran, where Pyrtor was visiting one of his foundation's outposts, a quick meet up, then back to base. They didn't have any time to waste. If Pyrtor couldn't, or wouldn't, help them, she needed to come up with an alternate plan quickly.
"He hasn't turned you down yet, has he?" Han pulled screws out of a vest pocket and started reattaching the panel. She seemed edgy. Edgy like the first time he took her for a meet-up. "You just need his foundation as an excuse to contact them. A way in."
She let her feet dangle below her, swinging back and forth in an almost carefree gesture.
"It's potentially connecting him to the Rebellion in a more visceral way. It's a door I'm not sure we should open but we are running out of options."
Their Chomre base was well-hidden but the planet and system had too much traffic. They needed to get to Hoth, an isolated and inhospitable environment, but the new base required specialized and expensive equipment. She knew she was placing her and Pyrtor in compromising positions but it was a calculated risk that could pay off big for the Rebels.
"Maybe Pyrtor could give you all the credits instead." Han could never figure out why Tech Boy—who was loaded—didn't help out with finances. Especially when it clearly stressed Leia out.
"There's a tight grip on his personal finances. His father always wanted detailed accounts. Now Dynsara does, too. Their older brother ran through a lot of funds." She knew Han was about to give a snide reply. "Right or wrong, it's how things often work in very wealthy families. They insist on maintaining tight control on their children's lives."
Han couldn't tell if she felt sorry for the guy or was just making excuses. It wasn't a typical Leia speech. The kind that set a fire under people, got them moving, kept them fighting. She sounded resigned. Like this was a simple truth of life and there wasn't much she could do to fix it.
"How'd you convince brass? Thought they considered this a waste of time."
"They have a wait and see attitude. If I come up with a solid plan and a projected outcome, I am allowed to ask for volunteers."
"Does this mean I'm not getting paid for this run either? Your I.O.U.s are getting pretty long, Princess."
She considered throwing one of the hydrospanners at him but decided against it. He would probably demand she climb to the bottom of the pit to collect it and she knew from experience that was a difficult journey.
She watched the back of his head as he attached the last of the screws. "It's risky but these are desperate times."
The plan was not fool proof. They had a small list of people who were likely major donors in the past but she couldn't say for certain. Background checks eliminated a few and revealed others who were likely still sympathetic to the cause. But it was impossible to tell if donations were made in the past or if Bail had ever connected with them. She was making a lot of guesses.
This project could have a big payoff and be the bank roll the Rebellion so desperately needed but it could also break down at many points along the way. Leia was trusting her instincts on this one. She was nervous. Knew she had to proceed with caution. Understood that every move, every aspect had to be vetted. But there was some base inkling, a feeling, that she was on the right track.
Han finished with the panel and pulled himself out of the pit. He held out a hand to help Leia up as Chewie walked in from the ring corridor.
[Time to get to the cockpit. We need to get our IDs and story in place. We already look suspicious.]
Dothran wasn't their usual remote rendezvous and they needed to look like a legitimate business that had cause to dock for a few hours when they weren't dropping off or picking up cargo. They decided to work the medical transport angle. Pyrtor was set to arrive as they docked. He and Leia would have their talk and they'd send him packing with a med cooler. Just had to hope no one asked to look inside.
Han wasn't too crazy about having Pyrtor on board for any period of time and didn't like being around while they met up. But refusing her on this point would cause some confusion and he wasn't ready to fess up about his feelings quite yet. It was a delicate operation. If he moved too quickly, pushed her, she'd back right off. Besides, she was still with Tech Boy and she wasn't going to consider anything with Han if that was still going on. Until then, he'd keep up his distraction tactics.
"You can use my cabin if you need privacy but no sex in my bunk. Or anywhere in that room. Or the 'fresher. I'll send Chewie in for the smell check if I have to."
She called him disgusting and rude but agreed to his terms.
They arrived ahead of schedule and had more time to wait, which didn't lessen Leia's anxiety.
This was the first time she had requested a meeting since the first one. They hadn't spoken since Kochi when she made it clear, once again, that they had no romantic attachment and he made it clear, once again, that he would wait it out.
The Kochi visit was a disaster. The intel was good. Madine and his team had solid leads thanks to Pyrtor's information. Luke managed to find references to Jedis, names he could further investigate and some documentation on practice and lore. But the fight with Han rattled her and didn't know if she was more mad at him or herself.
She understood that he started out wanting to defend her, even if he didn't see it in that moment, but his first response was anger and she became the target. And she returned the fire. They were both to blame for that argument and misdirected emotions. She didn't speak to him for days afterward because she couldn't trust her own actions. Didn't know if she would scream at him or slip into his arms and soak up his warmth.
It would have been the perfect time to admit she and Pyrtor were no more. Even if she played with the dates, claimed it just happened thanks to the stressful evening. Admit the truth then move on. But she couldn't do it. She would have felt too exposed. Vulnerable. Admitting one thing meant she was open to being asked more questions. Letting everyone think she was in a relationship, and one that she wanted to keep private, meant she could avoid topics, feelings, not related to the Rebellion. She could call the shots. Control the conversation.
She also knew times like this, sitting comfortably with Han, would be difficult if the truth were known. If that barrier didn't exist, she would feel the need to maintain distance. Not cross lines. It wasn't a physical thing, not really. Sure, she liked to touch him sometimes, brush back his hair, rest a hand on his forearm, but it was nice to simply touch someone. That's all it was. If he knew she didn't have a boyfriend he might take it in the wrong way.
She was always so careful with her feelings, protecting herself against any emotion that went too deep but with Han she could open things up—sometimes only a crack, sometimes for a deep belly laugh, sometimes fury—and know he would accept them all because it was just the two of them and he knew not to expect anything more. She had a boyfriend. He could rest his palm on the small of her back as they walked through a street. Place his hand over hers as she piloted the Falcon. Keep her close when they slept on missions, trying to stay warm. Sometimes she pretended to be asleep so she could enjoy his head nestled into her shoulder, his nose against her neck, his breath gently rustling her hair. If he knew the truth then none of that was possible and she needed all those things. It sustained her in ways she had yet to examine and had no intention of trying.
So, Leia let them refer to Pyrtor as her boyfriend. She let Han make his crude jokes and innuendos. And she did nothing to correct their assumptions. If everyone knew they would all want details and she liked the buffer. She needed that buffer. It was one more layer of insulation to maintain but she was up to the challenge. She'd been doing it most of her life.
Leia paced back and forth in the lounge, going through her points, over and over again. She wanted this pitch to be effective and quick. They didn't have much time before raising suspicions with port authority.
"Maybe I'm overthinking this." She kneaded her hands together as she paced. She'd been in battle, faced down Darth Vader, gave speeches and led votes in the Imperial Senate but somehow asking her former boyfriend for a favour was doing her in.
Han took her by the shoulders and gently pushed, walking her backward to the bench. He gave her a final, not too abrupt shove so she sat down.
"You're too wound up, Princess."
"You have no idea how much pressure I'm under." She tried to stand up again but he held her in place. "The Alliance needs money. This was what Bail did. It is what I do. This is my project. I had to fight for it the entire way and now it could pay off. This is a potential windfall for the Rebellion if I get this right."
Han let go of her shoulders and walked to the engineer station.
"This is asking a lot of Pyrtor. Asking him to be more involved. I know he cares—about the cause—but he only agreed to share information as he came across it. This might be outside his comfort zone."
Han sat down across from her and put a chrono on the table between them.
"And maybe I'm angry." She placed her elbows in the table and leaned forward. She looked down, pensive, almost shy. "Why didn't father share any of this information? Or give me a clue about where I should be looking? I didn't think to ask because I thought he told me everything. Everything I needed to know." Leia swallowed. "Now, I wonder what else he didn't tell me."
Oh, gods. She was going to cry! She put her head in her hands, trying to steady her nerves, get back on track. She just needed to remind herself what track she was supposed to be on.
Han took her hands and pulled them back down to the table, holding on to them for a few seconds longer than necessary. It took a moment for her to look back up at him.
"You got this."
She took several deep breaths and nodded.
"You're spinning out. That's all. Doesn't happen to you much so you don't recognize it." He tried to sound reassuring. He hated that she was meeting up with Pyrtor but that was a problem for later. Right now, she needed to calm down. "You got all the answers, all the reasons. All gonna be there when you need them."
"But I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop going over it, again and again."
"That's why we're gonna play a game." He flashed a lop-sided grin and she felt a different kind of excitement flare up.
Leia narrowed her eyes at him. "What kind of game?"
He adjusted a setting on the chrono and showed her. "You have three minutes to ask me anything you want."
She sat up straight. "Anything?" She was on the verge of tears only a moment before but they were gone now. "What's the trick?"
"No trick."
"Are you going to answer honestly?"
"Depends on the question." He laughed when she crossed her arms over her chest again. "I'll try. Promise."
This was a spur of the moment decision on his part. He wanted to distract and entertain her. Move away from the stress. And he wanted her to focus more on him than Pyrtor. It was a part of his action plan that wasn't really much of a plan. The only part he'd figured out so far was he needed to work the long game with her and he'd just have to make up that game as he went along.
"And no stalling. You can't run down the chrono to avoid more questions."
"Agreed."
"Five minutes." She narrowed her eyes and gave him her best negotiator look.
"No." He looked at her, neutral expression on his face. His voice low and even. "Three."
"Four."
He continued to stare at her for a few more moments. He didn't even blink. "Fine. Four." His hand hovered over the chrono. "Ready?"
"Hang on! Give me a second!" She rubbed her eyes. Shook out her arms like she was preparing for a big race. "Okay. Go."
He hit start.
"How fast did the Falcon really do the Kessel Run?"
"The navicomputer said twelve."
"You said honest."
"Are you calling my ship a liar?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if you and this ship had some kind of con going."
Han suspected it wouldn't take long for this game to go off the rails. She was going to ask him things he didn't want to answer—it was Leia, after all—but she'd already regained her usual spark so he could live with it.
"How many times have you been shot?"
"Straight up shot? Not grazed?"
Leia nodded.
Han looked at the ceiling like he was silently counting. "Four."
"What was your mother's name?"
"Mom." She gave him a hard stare and he sighed. "Jaina."
"That's a pretty name."
He shrugged.
"How many times have you said I love you?"
"Wow. Going for the big guns, Princess. Zero."
"How many times has someone said it to you?"
"Gonna guess zero."
"Zero?"
"Zero."
"Including your mother?"
It's true. He had never said I love you to anyone and he couldn't remember anyone saying it to him. His mother must have at some point but he had so few memories of her. She smelled like eidenflower. Maybe it was her shampoo. Or perfume. Or maybe he was remembering something else entirely, another flower, another woman, another lifetime. He remembered her being kind, gentle, scared. He had a sense, must be a memory, of his head against her chest as she talked. He couldn't remember anything she said. He only had the soft rumble of her voice against his ear.
"You're wasting time, Princess."
"Okay, okay!" Leia placed the palms of her hands on the table like she was pressing reset. "What is your favourite food?"
Han laughed. "Really?"
"I'm panicking here. Hurry up!"
"Don't think… I don't …"
"You're stalling on this one? Are you kidding?"
"Skip it. Got nothing."
She gave her head a quick shake like she couldn't believe him. "What's your favourite place?"
"Right here."
"The Falcon?"
He paused just long enough to smirk. "Yes."
She stared at him, taking him in, trying to decide if he was up to something.
He gave Leia a half-smile. "Finishing early?"
"First kiss."
"Knew you would go there. What about it?"
"Name."
"Han."
"That joke didn't work the first time."
His half-smile was still in place. "Don't know."
"You don't know or you don't remember?"
"Let's go with the second one."
"Lost your virginity."
"Who says…" She punched his arm. "Mera? Mena? Maybe something that starts with an s?"
She rolled her eyes and he laughed. He really did like to make it difficult sometimes.
Leia narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm starting to suspect you're not being entirely honest."
"I promised I'd try. I'm trying."
"You are very trying."
"We can stop any time."
She sat up straighter and gave him a stern look.
"First time you stole a speeder."
"Eleven?"
"What did you do with it?"
"Tried to sell it."
"Tried?"
"They took the speeder. I got a beat down. Not my best business move."
"Actually, that doesn't sound much different than how you operate today."
He stretched his legs out under the table and folded his hands over his stomach. When he got the bright idea to play the chrono game, he didn't know what to expect but figured he still needed to keep his cool.
"Are you the one responsible for dye in the laundry?"
"Nope."
"Did you spike the kaffe last week?"
He gave a quick grimace and scoffed. "Not my style."
"Hmm. Maybe not." She took another deep breath and centered herself. "Not going to waste time asking if you'll ever enlist."
"Wise."
"What are your plans then?"
He laughed. "What? Long term?"
She nodded, looking as serious as possible.
He shrugged. "Few knife tricks I was thinking about picking up."
She gave him another, hard to hide, half-smile. It was the first time he'd acknowledged the gift that could only have come from her. An old book—the print on paper kind—he found on his pilot chair one day. 101 Knife Tricks.
Han didn't keep things of sentimental value. He usually didn't want to be reminded of anything that came before. It was only going to make him feel like shit when it was lost or stolen. But he read that book from cover to cover then tucked it in a shelf near his bunk. He liked knowing it was there. He could reach out at any time, flip through the illustrations, and hear her laughing as he told the story. He liked knowing that she was listening.
"How old were you for your first fight? No, a fight too easy. Punched. Punched and knocked out. That one's better."
She thought she saw him flinch. It was a slight, small move and then back to his relaxed stance.
"Next question."
She flashed him a half-grin. "I bet it happened to you a lot. Or has it happened so often you can no longer remember the first time?"
"You're wasting valuable question time being a smart ass."
"Fine. But let the record show that you dodged that question entirely." He nodded. "What's your biggest regret?"
"Playing this game."
She lowered her voice. "What's your biggest regret?"
"I'll let you know when I have one."
That was a lie. His biggest regret was making her cry on Abbotin but he had no intention of bringing that one up again.
"You have no regrets? In your long—very long—life as a criminal, you have no regrets?"
"Probably should have dealt with Jabba and the debt."
"You regret staying with the Rebellion?" She cocked an eyebrow. It was a friendly question, an upbeat tone, but she caught his eye and challenged him to look away.
"I regret having this bounty on my head."
"Maybe there's another way to deal with it."
He waved a hand to indicate she should keep it moving.
"What do you like best about Luke?"
"His eyes."
She laughed, losing some of her competitive edge. "What do you like best about Chewbacca?"
"His eyes."
"What do you like best about me?"
"How you eat eggs."
It was hard not to smile at that one. In those first few months after Yavin, they all survived exclusively on rations and whatever supplements could be found. The Alliance had won a major battle against the Empire but they were still scrambling to find a new base, living in too close quarters on the scattered fleet and still struggling to feed their troops. Nothing fresh. No meat, fruit or vegetables. One of Leia's first assignments was creating meal plans to ensure basic nutritional needs were met.
Leia was aware of her privilege and the many advantages she had in life but she had always thought of herself as someone who could adapt to any circumstance. It was a part of her training as a royal and a diplomat. Don't turn up your nose at other customs, especially food, and power through it if you must. But Leia found it almost impossible to digest Rebel rations those first months.
It may have been the grief that tried to consume her, that she pushed off, affecting her appetite. It may have been that her body had to learn how to process her new diet. She realized that with all her posturing that she could make do on any mission, she had never truly been without fresh food.
By the time a shipment of eggs, meat and fruit arrived, she convinced herself that she could go longer without if it meant others could have more. It was yet another thing to add to her guilt and shame of surviving when others didn't. Trauma didn't work in a logical and linear fashion. Intellectually, she knew one had little to do with the other (her not having fresh meat wouldn't bring Alderaan back) but every new thing piled on top of another and it was hard to see straight.
Thankfully, Luke realized what she was doing. As the fresh supplies were about to run out, he presented her with a plate of eggs, fried meat and bread in the mess hall.
"If you don't eat it, it goes to waste." Luke pushed the plate close to her. "Your call."
It was logic she couldn't argue against, especially when it was accompanied by that smell. As Luke, Han and Chewie talked around her, she slowly ate, taking her time and savouring each mouthful.
She ate the whites of the eggs first, slicing off small pieces, working her way around the yolk. She was like a surgeon. Getting closer and closer to the yellow center without disturbing it took a steady hand, precision to completely remove the whites.
This is how she had always eaten her eggs, though maybe not quite so slowly. The challenge was to see how close she could get without breaking the yolk and when it finally spread out over her plate, she used the bread to mop it up. It was a very un-princess-like maneuver and Bail used to joke she was only allowed to eat eggs in the privacy of her own home.
She was lost in all of it. The taste and smell of her meal, the excitement and novelty of fresh food, thinking about her father and the palace and the world she could no longer touch. When she finished, she looked up to see Han staring at her. He was grinning, unabashedly, his face red from holding in laughter. She felt a moment of embarrassment that she didn't adhere to Bail's advice but Han, maybe realizing she was slipping in the wrong direction, gave a quick two-fingered salute and nodded.
"I'll make sure eggs are always on the princess-must-have list for supply runs."
After that, even if they weren't able to fill the mess hall coffers, he managed to almost always have a few eggs, and blue milk for Luke, in the Falcon cooler unit. Just in case his friends ever needed that taste of home.
"You don't like my eyes?"
"It was a pressure situation, Princess. I had to make a call."
"So, my eyes are in there somewhere?"
"Somewhere."
"Where?"
"In your last 30 seconds you want me to rank the things I like about you?"
"Point taken."
He leaned in. "What do you like best about me?
She gave him a half-smile. "That's not the game."
"Maybe the rules of the game are changing."
[The rich boy is here.] Chewie entered the lounge followed by Pyrtor.
Han didn't turn around. He kept his eyes on Leia. He wanted her all to himself for a little while longer. It was a selfish move, maybe a bit of a dick move, but he liked that he had her attention locked down when the boyfriend arrived. She had been nervous, preoccupied, and now she was laughing. Damn, he liked her laugh. He was proud of the Kessel Run and the tricked-out speed of the Falcon but nothing quite compared to the feeling of making Leia laugh. He was pretty sure that topped his list of achievements.
Leia looked at Pyrtor and Chewie and held up a finger. "I need a few seconds."
"I was under the impression we were under a tight schedule?" Pyrtor wasn't doing a good job of hiding his annoyance.
Han smiled at her. "Less than fifteen."
Leia clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes. "Fine."
"Ten."
"I fold."
Han turned the chrono off. "And with only seven seconds left. Who knows what you might have discovered?"
Leia stood up. "Oh, I learned plenty."
She walked toward the ring corridor, indicating that Pyrtor should follow. Leia led the way to the captain's quarters, careful not to reveal too much of her smile.
