Chapter 15:

Luke had been trying to meditate when Chewie returned at the appointed hour. They had waited the appointed half hour for Isolder to come back. They had tried to send him a message via the various gadgets they knew he was carrying with him. Failing that, they had sat staring at the floor of the lounge for another fifteen minutes. Isolder had been, at that point, an hour late. Chewie had looked up at Luke then and, as if he had come to life just then, he had announced that he was going out.

"That prince has probably gotten himself into trouble somewhere and we still haven't found Han or the Princess, so I am going to go out and continue the search tonight. You stay here until morning, and if no one comes back, come out and search as well."

Luke had nodded wordlessly.

"We did wrongly in letting Isolder go out alone," Chewie continued, "I am Wookie and you are Jedi, but he is naught but a young, inexperienced prince, barely out of his mother's nest-tree."

Ignoring the fact that he was pretty sure they didn't live in nest-trees on Hapes, Luke had nodded again.

"Good luck, Chewie," he had said, clasping his friend around the shoulders as best he could, given the wookie's height, and sending him on his way, wishing he didn't have to wait the entire night before going out to search.

"May the Force be with you," he'd muttered as his friend walked out of sight. He had then closed up the ship's ramp and sat down in the cockpit to try to meditate himself into calm enough a state of mind to get some rest before starting out in the morning.

Now it was morning, and he was checking the ship just one last time before leaving. A piece of flimsiplast with a note to the rest of them with information as to which direction everyone had gone in (to the best of his knowledge) was stuck near the ramp controls and the ramp itself was as locked as it was going to be. Only Han didn't know the passkey to get in, but, hopefully, if he should happen to pass by, he would have the good sense to stay put until someone else came back. Although, though Luke wryly, the locked ramp wasn't likely to stop Han – he was more likely to hotwire it or otherwise reorganize its circuitry than to wait around outside.

Luke took one last hopeful look around the clearing in which they had landed, but no one had appeared in the last few seconds. Pity. He took off at a fast clip, sending out exploratory tendrils of Force-sense, wishing he had practiced more for this eventuality, trained himself to be able to pick out the Force-signatures of specific beings from the background noise of Coruscant, instead of merely reveling in the overwhelming sense of life that was always present there.

X X X X X

Han was well and truly annoyed now. There was a time for tramping through the forest like some poor lost imbecile, and there was a time for sitting down in the Falcon's lounge with a good tankard of Corellian yellow ale and one of those concoctions of Chewie's, which were usually just barely palatable (the ale helped a lot there). The time for the former had passed, and the time for the latter had come and gone quite a while ago. In the meantime, he was beginning to stumble, which made him look a slight bit tired, and things that made Han Solo look anything less than completely in control were not things he approved of. And in addition to that, his stomach was grumbling, something that he never tolerated if he could help it. Gods, would this forest never end?

And then, just as he was thinking two rather incompatible thoughts at the same time (that if he sat down he was not likely to get back up again and that he would desperately like to sit down right now), it did. It took his eyes a full two minutes to adjust to the brighter light and the lack of green plants obscuring his vision. Instead of the trees and underbrush that had plagued him for the past week or so of walking, grass spread in waves ahead of him, for as far as he could see. It was strange, but after the 150 or so hours that he had spent cursing his surroundings and wishing he could get out of that damned jungle, he suddenly discovered himself reluctant to leave it. Faced with the overwhelming emptiness in front of him, he felt a sense of protection in the forest's shadow. Reassuring himself that he just preferred walking in the shade to walking with the sun beating down on his back, he decided to skirt the jungle for a while.

There was bound to be some sort of civilization at the edge of the forest somewhere, right? Wasn't there always supposed to be something at the edges of forests? Or was that rivers? His head was beginning to feel awfully fuzzy; that was for sure. There was really only a certain amount of time for which a guy could go without food before he collapsed or, worse, thought Han, started doing stupid things. Then again, he was Han Solo, not just some ordinary guy.

And so he plodded on, filling his belly as best he could with water from his canteen, and wishing he had attended some sort of fancy school (or even just a pre-mission briefing) where they taught you things like how to discern which plants were edible, which would kill you, and which would merely make you sick or turn you purple or some such other alarming but not catastrophic thing. At this point, he would gladly have risked turning purple. Death was probably a bit extreme, though.

He was about to risk sitting down on something and even taking a nap in the soothingly bright sun, when he thought he saw something up ahead. In fact he was quite sure of it: it was a flare, one of the old standard-issue Alliance flares. And near it, he perceived as he got closer, was something else. Something that was not just grass, not forest, and hopefully not a rancor, or anything else interested in eating him. No, it was probably one of those mirage things. Except didn't you usually hallucinate lakes and running water and stuff? This looked more like… well, like a ship, to be honest. In fact, the closer he got, the more familiar it looked. Which was strange, because as much as he would have loved to see his ship right now, in all honesty, what he would probably have hallucinated, given a choice, would have been a very greasy Corellian hrub steak with a side of… but it really did look like a ship. In fact, it looked a whole lot like his own ship. The next thing he knew, he was running towards it despite himself, the flare, and his rumbling stomach. The Falcon did have ration bars on her somewhere, outdated though they might be, and, well, it was his ship.

Stumbling over the grass, he was so happy to see her that he was mid-whoop of excitement when he tripped over something large in the grass, causing him to execute a rather taxing but relatively graceful flying leap over what appeared to be a humanoid body. He staggered a few steps and rubbed the musculature of his behind a little. That'll be sore in the morning, he thought, not as young as before. This was a moment where, were she here, Leia would smooth the hair off his forehead affectionately, kiss him soundly, and reassure him that he was still very young and handsome. And supple. He turned back around, a small smile appearing on his face at the thought. And then he caught sight of what he had just jumped over.

It appeared to be a certain frog prince of his recent acquaintance, intertwined with… a large reptile? He leaned down, still rubbing his hindquarters, and took a closer look. Upon second inspection, what he had previously taken for an oversized lizard seemed instead to be a young woman clothed in lizard skin. A remarkably familiar-looking woman. Asleep on a remarkably familiar-looking man. Upon third inspection, in fact, it seemed that it was his former captor resting upon his (possibly former) girlfriend's (possibly former – Han hoped) boyfriend. At this point, he was too tired to try to figure out just where he and Leia and Isolder all stood with one other. In any case, however, the combination of Isolder and Teneniel Djo apparently asleep on each other under the shadow of the Falcon was too much for him, and he could not stop from exclaiming,

"Fancy-pants?"

Teneniel Djo responded by rubbing her eyes drowsily and pushing herself to a half-sitting position, using Isolder to prop herself up. She started as she sat up and noticed who she was sleeping on, and began to carefully inch herself away with what Han perceived as an unmistakably guilty expression on her face. Isolder seemed quite soundly unconscious, however, and Han was definitely one hundred percent sure that it was him now, so he took a step closer and indulged an urge he'd been harboring for a few weeks by kicking Isolder soundly in the rear.

"Hey, fancy-pants, wake up!" he leaned down to shout in Isolder's ear. Isolder sat up suddenly enough that Han had to take a step back to avoid having Isolder's forehead connect with his chin.

"H-han Solo?" he murmured groggily, squinting up at Han. Han straightened his back and looked threateningly down at the prince, whose eyes quickly opened themselves as wide as they would go.

"You stole my girlfriend!" Han accused.

"I brought you to your ship!" Isolder retorted indignantly, gesturing at the flare under which he and Teneniel Djo had fallen asleep the night before.

"You need me to get you free," Han countered, winking at Teneniel Djo, who had, after considerable cat-like stretching, coiled herself into a sitting position and was now smiling jovially at Han.

"You know these people?" Isolder questioned incredulously. So the great good hunter thing was possibly true. Han recalled in his mind's eye the way one of Teneniel Djo's hands had been resting on Isolder's chest and the way one of his legs had been curled under both of hers, prior to her surreptitious movements away from him. At least they were both dressed, Han thanked the Gods.

"You seem pretty friendly with them yourself," he commented with a raised eyebrow. Forgetting the issues at hand in face of the incongruity of the situation, Han decided to ask the obvious, still peering disbelievingly at the scene before him.

"Hey, fancy-pants, what're you doing here, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be on Coruscant, you know, seducing my girlfriend and stuff?"

Isolder propped himself up on both elbows.

"Bit of a long story, actually. Starting with you taking off to… well, here, apparently. Leia and that other, ah, thing, got your distress signal, so we followed it to you, and we'd been searching for you here for a few days when Leia took off in the middle of the night, so… now we're searching for her as well. Only I've found you. Lucky me, eh?"

"Yeah, you-" Han cut himself off as a particularly worrisome thought occurred to him. "Wait, what do you mean, you're 'searching for her'? She's still out here somewhere, alone?" he took a menacing step forwards with those words.

"Yes, horrible thought, I know. She ran off while we were sleeping, it seems, but we're doing our best…" Isolder let his voice trail off with a frown.

"Doing your best? By cozying up to the natives and forgetting all about Leia, while she-", but he didn't want to think about what might be happening to her while he was wasting his time with her good-for-nothing suitor. "I bet," he sneered instead.

Han's emotions had been fluctuating from touched that Leia had come after him (momentarily flooded with happy warmth, in fact), to annoyed that she had seen fit to let Isolder tag along, to a spike of worry that she might be wandering alone in the jungle. At the sight of Isolder's smile, however, all of the intensity of his emotions was shifted swiftly into fury.

"You bastard!" he growled, "Djo-whatever, get out of the way a minute," he glanced at Teneniel Djo (he had no quarrel with her and, after all, had no idea how dangerous she might turn out to be) before turning back to his rival in one long lunge. His hunger and fatigue completely forgotten, he hauled the prince halfway off his back out of sheer rage and stared at him for a fraction of a second, feeling as though pure hatred were coursing through his veins. It turned out to be more akin to a stream of the foulest language he knew in what was possibly the most eloquent arrangement he had ever used (barring that one fight over a sabacc game with some other treacherous kriffer, the time he'd been drunk enough to bet his own pants… but it was better not to think about that), which he let loose at Isolder in such a furious tone of voice that even Teneniel Djo took a few shocked steps back. He hadn't been planning on actually hitting Isolder, not wanting to annoy Leia any further if and when he finally did see her again and not thinking the man was really worth the sore knuckles he'd earn himself, but, suddenly, thinking of his ridiculous sojourn on this ridiculous planet, all the heartache caused to himself and Leia during the past few weeks, and, worst of all, worse than anything else in the universe, the fact that Leia might now be in danger, he couldn't help himself, and before the decision had fully developed from subconscious urge to conscious decision, he was swinging his fist in a tight arc, disregarding any boxing technique he knew and operating instead on pure instinct. It was a very satisfying moment when he heard something in Isolder's jaw crunch. Not his neck or anything drastic like that, of course – he certainly didn't want to deal with the mess that killing the man would make – but just some simple sort of injury that would cause him to hold his head at a painful and unattractive angle for a few weeks.

"Why, you gods-be-damned peasant!" Isolder snarled angrily. He swung a blind undercut at Han's midsection and suddenly Han was gasping for his breath and all he could do was drive the stiff toe of his boot in Isolder's general direction. It connected magnificently with the center of his left shin. Isolder found himself stumbling backwards to the ground, where he had the misfortune of landing partially on a rather sharp rock formation. When Han managed to straighten up, Isolder's eyes were tearing while Teneniel Djo's were rolling in a largely universal gesture. If she had been able to speak Basic a little more fluently, she probably would have been accompanying the gesture with a cynical snort of "men!" As it was, she knelt next to Isolder and systematically began to feel along his jaw for breakages; satisfied that there weren't any, she moved efficiently on to his leg and finally, rolled him over to examine the parts of him that had fallen on the rock. Finding that he was for the most part whole, she lay him gently on the ground, patted him amicably on the shoulder, and stood to talk to Han, who had watched the entire spectacle with an expression of extreme skepticism on his face.

"Djo," he said as she stood to face him, "you friends with this guy?"

Teneniel Djo shrugged, whether as an expression of her lack of strong feelings towards Isolder or because she simply didn't understand Han, he knew not.

"No important there," she opened the conversation by patting Han's belly, which he was still massaging absently, in what she meant to be a playfully reassuring way. He didn't necessarily agree with her on that one, but at least he wasn't hungry now and, anyway, there were more important things to deal with.

"Leia," he began, "My… girl." He mimed his attachment to Leia by jabbing at his chest and tracing both hands in the air in what he hoped was the universal hourglass symbol for women, and then locked his two hands together in a tight grasp for good measure. Teneniel Djo nodded a little quizzically.

"You two," he pointed to Teneniel Djo and then to Isolder, "see her?" He mimed seeing by arranging two fingers as though they were coming out of his eyes. Teneniel Djo cocked her head quizzically. It took seven more precious minutes (he was counting) for him to convey to her that Leia, his Leia, was lost somewhere in this forest and another two for her to convey back to him that she hadn't seen her or any sign of her.

"Well, then we have to kriffing find her!" he stormed, before turning abruptly and walking up the Falcon and placing his palm against the sensor. It read his finger tips and acknowledged him as the primary owner, welcoming him with the beloved hiss-click sound of the ramp unlocking and depressurizing. He had never been so happy to hear the whirring of the tertiary motor as it lowered the ramp down. He climbed on before it had even quite settled against the ground and was halfway up it by the time it did, breathing in the familiar scent of his ship. Without realizing he was doing it, he breathed a quick sigh of relief to see that everything was still in place, and then headed straight for the galley. First stuffing several packs of ration bars and protein-fiber cubes into the pockets of a vest he grabbed from where it was hanging on a hook on one of the bulkheads and refilling his canteen from the water dispenser, it took him only a few moments to gather what he needed and return to the main hold, where he found Teneniel Djo. She had evidently followed him up the ramp and into the ship and was now standing in the center of the hold, slack-jawed with wonder. Ships were even more amazing than she had previously imagined.

"Ship," she said, "you?" Han looked at her and then around them, where her eyes continued to rove over the ship's contents.

"Yeah. Definitely. Ship, me. My ship," he nodded emphatically, pointing back and forth from himself to the ship. There were to be no doubts about his ownership of the Falcon. She nodded acquiescently.

"You, ship. Me, sisters… go to you, ship?" she asked. He frowned at her. What? Where was Threepio when you needed him, anyway? But it didn't take him long to decipher her request. After all, people in possession of ships capable of carrying passengers and/or freight quickly become used to requests of a particular nature, and this was one of those.

"You and your sisters want me to take you somewhere on my ship?" he said, raising his eyebrows at Teneniel Djo. Obviously not completely understanding him, she raised her eyebrows and then began to mime what she meant in attempt to clarify the issue. After a few seconds of watching her, Han decided that his initial conjecture had been correct and began to nod.

"Sure. Yeah. We'll see. You and your sisters can come on my ship to wherever you want… if you help me find Leia – girl," he told her slowly, accompanying his words with an elaborate set of mimes. (Where was Threepio when you needed him?) Finally in agreement, the two of them left the Falcon. Han palmed the sensor again, shutting and locking the ramp; he smacked one of the landing trestles solidly a few times, wishing he could communicate to his ship that he hoped he would be returning soon… with Leia.

He was startled out of his reverie by the sound of Teneniel Djo whistling harshly into the air, two fingers firmly planted between her lips. After three whistles, she cocked her head, listening for a response. A few moments later, seemingly satisfied, she folded her legs beneath her and sat down serenely while Han stood impatiently, not sure of what she was doing and not sure whether he should wait to see or whether he should leave in search of Leia immediately.

"Signal," she explained after a moment, "sisters come." Ah. Well, that clears everything right up, he thought to himself, mentally rolling his eyes. Less than five minutes seemed to have gone by when three women, similarly attired in suits of some sort of reptilian skin, came bounding out of the forest and across the grass towards them. They made fists of their right hands and punched Teneniel Djo in the side of the neck one by one; Han was about to step forwards in her defense when he noticed she was laughing and punching them in return. He pushed aside his thoughts as to their strangeness so as to concentrate on understanding what was going on.

The four women were talking animatedly, (all four of them at once, but that didn't seem to confuse anyone but Han – and probably Isolder, but he was still recovering a few yards away). It was only a few minutes before they turned to Han and looked him up and down appraisingly.

"Sisters go. Message," Teneniel Djo told him in her usual highly elucidating manner. "Help find woman. You follow." Han grasped what he thought to be the main idea: that he was to follow one of the women which would, somehow, aid his efforts to locate Leia. He sighed. If that was how it had to be. He had nodded his thanks to the women and was about to follow the one in the green suit that Teneniel Djo had indicated when he heard his name being called.

"General Solo!" cried Isolder, getting to his knees in an unsuccessful attempt to stand. He was looking quickly back and forth between Teneniel Djo and Han. Sure, she was cute (all right, fine – beautiful), but that didn't mean he wanted to be her captive for any kind of extended period. Han turned around, annoyed, and rolled his eyes. Oh, right. Can't forget fancy-pants.

"General Solo, you mentioned your acquaintanceship with some members of this civilization. I'm still not quite sure of my position with them but I know that my mother would, of course, recompense you quite admirably for any services you would provide to me, and-" Han cut him off mid-sentence.

"Yeah, shut up a second; I'll see what I can do," he told the still-kneeling prince.

"Teneniel Djo, could I have this guy? I take him?" Han asked, gesturing elaborately to symbolize an exchange of ownership of the prince. After a quick conference, Teneniel Djo nodded and confirmed, "You take him." She glanced back over to the man. He was cute, there was no denying it, but, upon reflection, he just didn't seem very… well… bright. And it was much better to have clever daughters than pretty ones. And there was really enough prettiness in the women of Teneniel Djo's family to ensure that her daughters would probably be reasonably attractive. So, really, it was all for the best. She shrugged and tried to convince herself to turn her back on the departing men.

Han walked over and hauled Isolder (for the second time that day) to his feet and began walking with him. Isolder kept looking back every few seconds to see if Teneniel Djo was still watching them and Han would have bet a few credits (but not his pants) on the fact that Teneniel Djo was sneaking looks at Isolder when he wasn't looking.

"You know, fancy-pants," he said as they began to walk, more to distract Isolder from his painfully obvious glancing technique than because he actually wanted to converse with the man, "I stopped using my mother to get me out of sticky spots when I was about two."