6

Iolu Praji had been the eldest son of one of Coruscant's most prominent families, a family nearly as ancient as the planet-wide city itself. With old money poured vast and deep into the city's financial district, a career wasn't a necessity but an education, or 'professional hobby' as his father called it, was. Iolu had wanted to be a flatsculpt architect, but that hadn't been deemed 'professional' enough for his parents, so he'd enrolled in the pilot's program at Coruscant University. It was there that Leia had met him, sitting in the back row of the white-domed lecture hall.

Leia remembered that Iolu's nose was long and aquiline and his forehead prominent and wide, his hair longish without seeming overly long or unruly. Those features she remembered with an uncanny precision, but in moments of reflection, she couldn't recall the exact shade of blue of his eyes. Beneath his quiet and shy demeanour, he'd been an intellectual and an idealist, and not only in spirit. He's been willing to work with his bare hands and dreamed of travelling the galaxy and working on refugee worlds with dislocated species, especially those rendered homeless by the resource pillaging practised by the Empire. Leia had never been sure if she'd fallen in love with his idealism or his tenderness first, only that he'd brought vivid colour to her life, a life dissolving into shades of grey.

Three years later, despite Luke's claims to the contrary, she was also certain that his death had been her fault, but she had given up believing that her brother would tell her the truth.

The throne room of the Imperial Palace held a massive circular window with transparisteel panes shaped like the rays of the sun that fanned outward in all directions. Coruscant was a planetary ecumenopolis; skylanes cut across the crevasse-like streets in every direction, every which way. Palpatine could gaze down upon the Palace District and even the greatest of the planet's skyscrapers.

On the night of the dinner, Palpatine stood by the window deep in thought when she arrived. "You're right on time, my dear. Come, come." One gnarled hand pointed to the polished floors. "Come stand beside me."

His voice was hoarse and gravely. To Leia, it had always sounded ancient. She went to stand beside him and he grasped her hand as though she were a child. The skin was dry and dead feeling and a shudder of revulsion washed through her so fiercely she couldn't hide it; he seemed not to notice, or chose not to notice.

"I have a dilemma," he announced idly, as though he had been standing there for hours, attempting to reach a resolution.

"I'm not sure that I can help," she said.

"You are aware that the Kel Dorians, who live in the lower levels, cannot breathe oxygen rich air?"

"Yes," she replied.

"We are having difficulties in several of the ethnic neighbourhoods. Other species are complaining that the Kel Dorians are purposely removing filtration systems in order to dirty the air."

Leia nearly bit her lip. In all likelihood, this was a game - Palpatine was fond of games. Tentatively, she said, "Many species were driven together into the lower levels by your policies. They are merely doing what they must to survive."

"Survive, yes, but unfortunately, their actions have inspired the Gands in a neighbouring sector to do the same. Shall I infuse the area with oxygen rich air, sentencing many of the Kel Dorians to pain and suffering and certain death? Or shall I… negotiate?" He pronounced negotiate as though the notion of bargaining disgusted him. "Logically, if I deal with the Kel Dorians, I will be required to deal with the Gands as well. Both species will learn that by terrorising their neighbourhoods, they can bring about the changes they want." Palpatine clucked to himself. "No, I can't have that. If they die they will have brought it upon themselves."

He turned around slowly, releasing her hand. "You're wearing my gift. Do you approve of it?"

Leia touched the necklace of Joralla pearls encircling her throat like a chain. "Yes," she forced herself to say. "These gems are far more precious a gift than I deserve."

"Your brother has indicated that you are not interested in a position here in my palace."

Leia skirted a glance toward the guards in flowing crimson robes. There were five when there should be six and she sensed that her brother wasn't among them.

"He's coming," Palpatine assured her, as if he knew her thoughts. "He's running an errand for me."

One of the servers brought her a glass. Leia struggled to speak, for they were standing face-to-face and she had always had a hard time looking directly at him. It wasn't merely the mask of physically repulsive features; it was the darkness. She could see it and she felt as though if she stared for too long, she would be lost, drawn into it forever. When she spoke, she felt like she was drowning, trying to speak underwater. "My brother speaks the truth."

The Emperor chuckled. "Has it ever occurred to you that there may be positions of great interest to you? Many have trained here and work for me in unofficial capacities. You…" He seemed to size her up. "You are best suited for something official. You think quickly on your feet. You can act and easily impress. You are persuasive. Perhaps you possess the patience to negotiate with the Kel Dorians." He sampled the wine in his goblet. "You would be a valuable ally within my government, far more like your mother than I ever imagined you would be."

Leia blinked. "My mother?" The morsel of information almost weakened her resolve to remain either indifferent or to hate him.

"Hasn't your brother told you? Yes, yes, you are so much like your mother. One of the finest women I have ever known – finest politicians too." Palpatine folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes and began moving toward a double set of dark, heavy wooden doors on the other side of the throne room. "There is, of course, one significant difference between you two and that is your gift from your father."

"No." Leia shook her head, panic engulfing her. "I'm not like my father."

Palpatine didn't hear her, lost in a distant memory. "What was it your brother asked you that day after the accident in the dressing rooms…? Oh, yes… Were you like him? And what was it you said…" His mouth curved almost unnaturally, blackened teeth revealed. "Yes."

Leia felt cold and her mouth fell open. She meant to say something, but she couldn't, for he was grinning, and his grin made him appear as a monster from little children's nightmares, yellowy eyes glinting in the light from the rotunda window.

"My dear, nothing ever transpires that I do not permit."

Leia endured the dinner the way she would an epidermal cleansing. Roganda made small talk and the other concubines, Grael and a golden-skinned Firrerreon woman whose name was a mystery to all, barely uttered a word. The other guests were a pair of upper level government officials, sycophants who praised everything from the water to the embroidered napkins.

After dinner, Luke led her through the central maze of corridors to his suites. She had never seen his suites inside the palace. It was a strange revelation to learn that he owned art and data-discs, things other than her that were important to him. She sat on the lounge by the window, which was actually a holographic screen that showed panoramic views of the ivory Mysses Blossoms in the outside gardens. "Our mother was a politician. You never told me."

"Didn't I?" Luke stared at her blankly.

Leia examined his face, but it was closed like a fist about to strike, fingers folded down, pointed knuckles facing out. "No. You never did."

"I have a holo." He flicked several buttons on the panel that controlled the holographic window, and the image of a woman replaced the gardens. Leia's breath caught slightly; she was larger than life, ten times her size. Arm raised, mouth open, she spoke to the crowds in the senate chamber. With her mouth twisted argumentatively, Leia couldn't tell if she was beautiful or not.

"If you like, can have a copy made."

"No." Leia had resolved that she would take nothing with her when she left Coruscant. Not a dated holo of her mother, not fancy gowns, none of Palpatine's gifts. She would painstakingly erase all comm units and drop them in the garbage shoot, force herself to forget all numbers so that she would be able to rely on no one save herself. The temptation would be too great.

Besides, on the birthing table that would be her deathbed, her mother had asked Palpatine to look after her children. More than once during her twenty odd years, Leia had cursed her for that

Thoughts of pregnancy and childbirth reminded her of Roganda and of the fortuneteller's words. If she inhaled deeply enough she could almost smell her perfume in Luke's suites. "Did you know that Roganda is expecting?"

"Of course."

"Did Roganda tell you about the fortune-teller?" she asked. "What she said?"

"The bird-woman." Luke nodded. "She was still shaken up when she arrived back at the palace that day."

"Does Palpatine truly care who the father is?"

Luke shrugged. "She wasn't supposed to get pregnant."

"Wasn't supposed to…" Her eyes flashed with indignant anger. "He shares her with others."

Again, Luke shrugged. "She's always been eager to share herself."

"Don't you think she deserves better?"

"Since when are you her champion?"

"I'm not her champion," Leia countered, straightening her spine so that they were closer in height. "But she's a citizen of Coruscant, and she has rights. She's not a pet, not a slave."

"No," Luke agreed. "But she is part of the Emperor's staff. Her provides for her every need, want and desire and in exchange, she is physically and socially available to him when the need arises. Given the circumstances of her employment, specific types of loyalty are expected. The pregnancy shall interfere with her job." His mouth moved impatiently. "Let me assure you, she did not assume her position blindly, no matter how much she plays the part of the victim."

"Perhaps she lacked the luxury of choice."

"Choices are over-rated." Luke smiled wryly. "She actually tried to convince me the child might be mine."

The news didn't surprise her. "Is it?"

"Once upon a time, it could have been, but Roganda is fonder of games these days."

That was more than she had ever wanted to know about her brother's relationship with Roganda Ismaren. The comment was also the impetus to drive her to her feet and draw the pleated green dress over her shoulders. "In here?"

"Are you in a hurry?"

"No," she answered, although the prospect of spending the night in the Imperial Palace was almost more than she could bear. She thought of Palpatine's eyes again and shivered. Luke misinterpreted her fear for a chill, and removed his robe, swathing her in crimson. "What was your errand?"

"I was sent to ask someone a question."

"A question only you could ask?"

"You're angry with me," he countered, ignoring her prying altogether. "You don't hide it well."

"I'm angry that I was forced to attend this dinner. I'm angry that you treat my life so trivially, as though it's all disposable." She rubbed at her neck, which was tense and knotted from the stress of the evening. "I can't live here. Not within the confines of his… home."

"You're speaking nonsense," Luke said, forehead creasing. "It's my home. You can live here and we can go on as we have. Nothing will change."

"Except that I shall have become another of his servants and pawns." Leia swung her chin in an arc and gestured around the suite. "Loyalties shall be expected of me."

Luke paced to the control panel and switched the image back to the outside gardens, his mouth sealed tightly. "The only loyalty expected of you is to me."

"To you? Logically, if it's to you than it's also to him. Well, I won't do it," she declared. "I won't live here, nor shall I become his servant, nor anything that will keep me within a kilometre of his presence! If you attempt to force me it will be kicking and screaming."

The corner of Luke's mouth lifted in a sly, amused smile, and his eyes glinted gold. He slipped his index finger along the handle of his double-sided vibroblade. "Do you promise?"

She didn't see his foot snaking across the floor. She came down and thwacked the back of her head so hard that she saw stars, even though the carpet provided thick padding. Her lungs gasped out a breath.

Luke fell over her spread eagle so that only his toes and fingertips touched the floor. Touching the bare skin of her shoulder with his thumb, as though he had every right. He was so relaxed and confident of his control. "If you win against me now," he whispered, "you never have to step foot in the palace again."

"If you win?"

"You stay the night."

Echani was an ancient hand-to-hand combat technique, practised by the Echani warriors and unchanged after a millennia. Luke had begun teaching her soon as soon as her wrist had healed. "I've never won," she said. "It won't be fair."

"Nothing is." He snapped to his feet in one graceful movement and reached for a spare blade. "Remember that you wear your anger across your shoulders and your arms tense up before you strike."

"I'll work on it," she growled, accepting the weapon and leaving the cloak like a pool of blood on the floor.

It was a chance and it was worth trying. She concentrated on relaxing her body before each strike. The points of the double-bladed vibroblades were rounded off metal, set, at this very moment, to stun lightly, not mortally wound.

Luke danced and pivoted, his blades coming at her faster and faster, clack-clacking against her own. Echani was an equally an art form, a method of communication and a method of combat. Echani philosophers believed that one's innermost feelings were revealed through the battle, that to know one fully, they must be fought - except to Leia, Luke was an enigma, indifferent, cold. It was as though all of his memories lived in darkness. Often she thought that if he could speak them aloud, expose them to the light, he might learn to be different. In battle she was no match for his expertise, for his lean, raw strength and could do nothing more than react and block him.

Finally, she caught him beneath the armpit, a vulnerable spot.

"Good," he said.

The momentary lapse invigorated him, and next he brought his blade down overhand and caught her before she could lock her elbows.

She pushed back, arms shaking with the vibroblade raised defensively. If this were a real battle, he would be prepared to yank the blade crosswise when her arms gave out. If this were a real battle, she would take the blade in the throat.

"This is how it all began," he said. "Do you remember?"

"Please." She dropped her arms when she should have ducked and twisted away from the coming blow.

Luke released his weapon before the blade could strike her and kissed her open-mouthed. She averted her face, hating that eventually her body would yield to his, just as she knew deep down that he hated needing her.

"Please, let me go," she pleaded.

He gathered and twisted her wrists together so tightly that pain lanced up her arms; she sank to her knees upon his cloak. "No."

During Leia's second to last set at the Manarai the next evening, Han Solo materialized between the hanging strips of hylaian marsh bamboo that separated the lounge from the restaurant. Twice during the old-fashioned ballad Lonely Heart Spaceport, she lost tempo. Quietly, she motioned to the bass viol player to end the set early, then she descended from the stage, only to find that she had blinked and Han Solo had vanished. Temporarily though, for in the darkened alcove by the lavish refreshers, where none of Xizor's holo-cameras was aimed, he cornered her.

"You look like you're feeling better," he pronounced.

"I told you never to come here," she hissed.

"I have clients visiting from Obroa-skai," he said. "It's not my fault that Xizor has a snazzy advertising campaign running on holograms across the galaxy." Han leaned back against the alcove wall. "That last song is an old favourite of mine. Sappy, but catchy."

"Why are you here?"

Frustration creased his forehead. "You didn't show last night and my comms haven't been getting through."

"I turned it off." It was hidden in a secret compartment beneath her bed where Luke would never find it, even if he were looking. Leia set her jaw. She refused to throw herself into his arms and make this easy for him. "It hasn't been safe."

"I know it's your final set. Meet me afterward."

"What about your clients?"

"They have a hankering to check out the bright lights of the Uscru District."

"Sabacc and exotic dancers. You're not tagging along?"

"You're a sure thing."

Somehow, Han managed to say that and appear both charming and blithely seductive. Anxiously, she skirted a glance towards the corner that eased into the lounge, half-expecting someone to turn the corner at any moment. "No."

"Fine then."

"Fine then," she repeated.

"I mean, fine then, I'm not leaving."

"You can't do this to me – not here-" A shadow fell across the floor. Leia slid her hand behind her, preparing to slip into the fresher, but she heard beeping and realised it was only a sweeper droid rounding the corner in search of ashes, crumbs and other patron detritus. Leia glared at him. "Fine. You win."

They contrived to meet several blocks away from the Manarai after her last set, and after surveying the area to make sure she wasn't being watched, she slipped into the vehicle "Damn it. What kind of an idiot are you?"

"I've been told I can be as thick-headed as a bogtree and as stubborn as a clone trooper. But…" Han grinned crookedly. "I don't think she meant it."

Leia twitched with the compulsion to slap the grin off his face or grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. Instead, without realising she was going to do it, she leaned her body shoulders first over the divider and kissed him so hard she bruised her lips against her front teeth.

"That was foolish," she whispered. "Foolish, foolish."

"Yeah?"

"We can't be seen together." She kissed him again, this time with her tongue, fingertips moving into his hair; he kissed her back and she felt his thumb sliding into the open side of her gown, just below her armpits, where the fabric fell apart. The expensive, woolly scent of his sweater, ale and his own male smells were almost familiar and she felt an intense rippling of sickness, different from food poisoning or illness, as though she'd just witnessed a terrible accident in the skylanes below them.

After a moment, Han said "Leia," harshly as though she was hurting him but she wouldn't release him, not until he grabbed her by the shoulders and inched her back.

"What?"

"I want you to tell me where you're going."

"I don't know where."

"When you do."

"No." She shook her head and a Jade rose tumbled from her hair. "We've been over this. If you know where I am, if my brother suspects you know, he'll hurt you."

"I heard about that incident with the Kalzerian – the guy who lost his hand."

"How do you know-?" She shivered and carefully gathered up the rose so that the petals didn't fall between her feet. Luke had been drinking that night. Fortunately, the amputation had been clean and the Kalzerian had only lost his hand temporarily. "Who told you?"

"I have my sources. I mean it. At least to let me know if you're okay."

"My situation isn't as simple as you assume."

"Nothing ever is."

"People close to me tend to lose more than they bargained for," she said. "I warned you the night we met. In my experience, we believe there are choices when there are none. Choices are over-rated. I'm not going to endanger you." She licked her lips. "Maybe… I don't even know if I'm leaving now."

"You changed your mind about taking off?"

"I haven't made a final decision."

"Why?" His eyes scrutinized her closely. "What about the Emperor?"

"I've entered into negotiations that may keep him out of my life."

"Darling…" Han laughed bitterly and snorted with derision. "No one negotiates with the Emperor. Or they try and don't live to tell about it."

It was the truth. "My brother," she began tentatively, knowing that it was more than she should tell him. "My brother is a trusted member of the Emperor's inner circle. He's assisting me."

"The crack-job I met the other night?"

"I'm all he has," she protested. "Our relationship is complicated."

"Complicated?" Han's face sharpened. "You're afraid of him. I can imagine why."

Leia shook herself in a ripple that carried from shoulder to shoulder, like a wave, not caring for the direction this conversation was headed.

At the Imperial Palace, she had been restless, unable to sleep and for longer than she cared to admit she had stared at the pair of vibroblades discarded on the floor beside the bed. In the twilight before she fell asleep, her mind was often at its clearest. That night, it occurred to her that perhaps her brother wasn't deliberately cruel or unfeeling; perhaps he was like the thousands of wild predators roaming jungle planets such as Myrkr or Haruun Kal, a natural hunter and carnivore who only did what was in his nature, an animal that couldn't help dominating her because she was weaker than he.

And if that was case, than she should accept that if she ever wanted to win against him, she needed to fight him like an animal, go after him when he was at his weakest.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, than Luke had awoken beside her, eyes half-mast, looking surprisingly young and innocent. "You're not capable of murdering in cold blood," he'd said softly. "Never have been, never will be. You weren't lying. You're not like me."

Self-consciously, she tugged her bracelets down over her wrist, although the scars were only visible when she'd been too long in water. Iolu had been the same way with the questions, wanting details. "I don't need anyone to rescue me," she said, striving to sound haughty and determined. "Not you, not anyone else. I never asked for that."

Han regarded her for a long moment. His face had become tight and lethal looking "You don't need rescuing, but you need my help. You did ask for that, remember?"

Heat ran all over her body like a slow stun until even her arms were burning up and she wished the skylanes below would spread open and swallow her. And I can't bring myself to kill him. "I'm starting to hate you."

"And here," he said gruffly, "I was just warming up to this whole honesty thing."

Leia kept tugging at her bracelets. The airspeeder began moving again. Soon, a neon sign for Skyroute D27C flashed by them. She glanced down at the crosshatching traffic. The patterning was unfamiliar although she thought they'd been heading toward the Hirkenglade Prefecture. Between the skyscrapers, she could see the pointed pyramid that marked the Imperial Palace. She imagined the Emperor staring out his window. She thought of the Kel Dorians, struggling to breathe fifty levels below. She'd been unable to watch the newsvids for the past two days, afraid they would be covering a terrible catastrophe in the sublevels.

The airspeeder moved faster than the skylane limits. He drove wildly – she didn't remember that from the ride down from the skyhook last week. She gripped the divider so fiercely the veins of her hand swelled to life. "Where are you taking me?"

He leaned across the panelling between them and his mouth was warm and friendly against her ear, as though she hadn't accidentally confessed anything at all. "The ride of your life."

It was love and pain at first sight.

The first time Leia and Rrakktor's Revenge were officially introduced, the ship shocked her. She shuffled her slippered feet along the on-ramp and reached to touch the bulkhead as she stepped over the lip where the ramp and hatchway connected. The jolt, the shock, shot up her arm, into her elbow and funny bone. She gasped and yanked her arm back.

The inner corridors were matte black, and the ducts sliced open so that her innards were easily accessible. Leia ran her hand along the walls affectionately. Everything about the ship was his handiwork; it felt like him, it smelled like him. Two tie-down holsters, tops cut off, hung just inside the hatchway entrance. Han was always armed, but his weapons were usually concealed. Leia knew that it couldn't always have been that way, not if he'd lived as a smuggler and needed to appear as though he would shoot to kill on a moment's notice.

"You've done a great deal of work on her?" she observed, noting that no hired technician had ever touched this ship. "She must make .5 past lightspeed?"

"Without even a shudder. I've made a lot of modifications." He caught her elbow and began steering her directly toward the cockpit, then paused, proudly, and pointed out a large dent in the wall. "I added a ding here with a hydrospanner. And you should see what I did with the multi-tool in the starboard hatchway."

"You're prejudiced against shiny and new?"

"The dents give my reflection more character." He struck a pose, tucking his chin into his thumb and forefinger. "What do you think?"

Leia chuckled. By now, she was adept at pre-flight checks, tight manoeuvrings, basic flying and hyperspace jumps, but Han slid into the pilot's chair gracefully and with such a commanding air that Leia sank into the smaller, offset companion chair without question.

He gave her a warm smile. "She was my first big purchase after Lando and I made our major deal. I'd never bought a new ship before. It didn't suit me. I spent a year working on her. I reinforced the hull with titanium. I replaced the engines, they hyperdrive, the backup hyperdrive, added a military-class sensor system. I upgraded the weapons systems." He grinned. "My line of business came in handy. She could take out a Star Destroyer if she needed to."

Leia rolled her eyes exaggeratedly even though she couldn't stop herself from smiling back. "In your dreams."

"Well…" He lowered his voice dramatically. "But I could take out the command bridge."

This time, after un-docking from the skyhook, they followed an approach and departure corridor toward the southern tip of Coruscant. The planet-city twinkled like thousands of gems. "So where are we going?" she asked.

"Just like I said." He grinned like a crazy man, eyebrows lifted. "The ride of your life."

Earlier, she hadn't been able to tell if it was an innuendo or not. Now that she knew it wasn't, she reached over and punched him lightly in the arm. "Where?"

"Did you know there are underground canyons – crevasses actually, under the glaciers at the South Pole?"

"No, I didn't."

"There's one big one in the Carish Glacier, a well-kept secret. Mostly thrill-seekers fly there, or pilot's wanting to fine-tune their reflexes with real practice, not sims. Since you need experience flying atmosphere, we'll call today's lesson your introduction."

They flew in low over the turbo-ski hills and resorts. Han laughed as they gained airspeed, saying, "Is this fast enough for you, sweetheart?"

Leia felt a little breathless with irrepressible exhilaration. Between the steep, sharp walls of glistening ice, the Rrakktor's Revenge flew like a spire falcon hunting prey. Unlike the Spirit of Nyenthi'Oris, the Rrakktor felt fast. There was something sterile about the Spirit, as though too many people had looked after her or owned her and she was forever in search of her own character. This ship was designed for speed and manoeuvrability; her engines purred. Leia watched Han's gloved hands fly nimbly over the controls and longed to know the ship, to be able to command her that way; the longing was intense, like needing sex or food or air.

"Remember the night we met in the Manarai?" Han asked. The ship dipped deeply to avoid a bridge of ice stretched across both edges of the crevasse. He peered at her out of the corner of his eye without moving so much as a finger from the controls.

She glanced at him askew. He hadn't done any more prying on the way to the skyhook, and she'd assumed the topic had been dropped, but now she saw that his face had gone dark again. As though he was running hot and cold in short, explosive bursts. "Yes. It wasn't that long ago."

"What if I'd been someone else? Some other rich guy with a couple of ships and a skyhook."

"You weren't."

"Then it was luck."

"You hit on me that night, not the other way around."

"You knew who I was."

"I knew what type of man you were," she exclaimed.

"What else?"

"I knew most of the women who dangled from your arm wanted something from you. I wanted something from you." Inertia brought her heart up into her throat. She tightened her crash webbing. "You turned out to be different."

"From the others?"

The offensiveness of the question caught her off-guard. "Than what I expected."

He looked straight ahead. "What did you expect?"

"What's your point?"

"I was just thinking," he went on, "that conceivably, the only way to convince the Emperor to leave you alone would be to align yourself with someone close to him. Someone he approves of. And then, I start thinking there's probably only one thing a woman like you can offer in exchange."

He was so near to the truth that could only force herself to laugh bitterly. "Maybe I will and maybe I won't. I told you I haven't made up my mind."

Instantly, she wished she hadn't said it, for the look that settled across his lean features was so carefully composed that most fearsome species in the underlevels of Coruscant would avoid him.

"Gundarks fight as soon as they get kicked out of the womb," Han said coldly. "Cause they don't know any other way."

For the next while, he flew like a mad man, possessed. His hands moved over the controls like the talons of a deranged nashtah hound. Within the grip of the atmosphere, the ship felt different, almost alien; with the alluvial dampers switched off, the controls trembled and bucked and Leia could feel every little movement, every gravitational thrust or pull. She knew that for an inexperienced pilot, this type of feeling could be lethally misleading, that he or she might rely on their physical senses and not on the ship's sensors. Additionally, jet streams, airflows, and atmospheric storms all produced enough turbulence to send a novice pilot into a panic.

As it was, the way he was flying was nearly enough to send her into a panic.

They flew through several passes, each narrower than the last. The Rrakktor spun gracefully onto her side and down, and then up again. Glassy blue walls moved by her face so fast that in her peripheral vision she saw a solitary, glistening sheet.

She closed her eyes and imagined dying down there, anonymously. Her heart lurched and hot breath exited her nostrils. Luke would never know what had happened to her. The struggle would be over and she could give up fighting Luke's threats and the Emperor's twisted promises.

Yet somewhere deep inside her, a voice was saying, No.

She looked up just in time to see a blur of gold rushing toward them. There was scarcely time for her mind to process that they were about to collide with another ship; the Rrakktorr dipped violently, and there came the terrible sound of ice scraping the underside of the hull while the entire ship vibrated and shuddered. Swearing, Han clawed her back under control.

"Stop," she shouted. "Stop!"

She buried her face in her hands and didn't look for what felt like an hour. The ship slowed. Shaking, she unfastened her crash webbing and made her way down the narrow corridors, hands bracing herself as though she might lose her balance or be sick. She leaned her forehead against the bulkhead wall outside the common area. It was cold, but not enough of a physical shock to purge the sense that she had almost died.

Han called after her, but she didn't answer. He came tearing down the hall as soon as the engines had whined down. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You nearly got us killed!"

"That?" Han pointed toward the cockpit. "Sweetheart, that was child's play. You want to nearly die, try flying from a dozen Corporate Sector Authority starfighters on your ass, damaged shields and a hyperdrive that bails on you."

"This is supposed to be a training run!"

"That ship didn't show up on my sensors. If you'd been paying attention you would have noticed. She must have been flying with a cloaking device."

"And you were flying with your ego," she accused angrily.

"I guess I'm a jealous man."

She twisted into the main hold so that he wasn't looming over her. "I have no patience and no time for jealousy."

His mouth softened slightly, but she could still see that he was just as obsessed with who. "I really scared you, huh?"

"Yes."

"I hate to see you – any woman, be in your position. If there's one thing I've got in spades, it's credits. If there's one way out for you, there's gotta be a way I can help."

"This has nothing to do with credits."

"Of course." He ran a desultory thumb across her forehead.

"Stop it."

"I mean it. You're priceless."

Leia fought off the twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"And we're good together. We have great chemistry. Admit it."

"Maybe…" Leia began, still trying not to smile. "When you're not nearly getting us killed, I might agree."

"Come to the couch-" Han kissed her gently. "Come to the couch and let me apologize properly."

The offer was too tempting to resist, shot through as she was with adrenaline after the near-collision, wanting nothing more than to fold into his arms and kiss him back.

"Only if you permit me to apologize too," she said, for a thousand different reasons, mostly because she and Iolu Praji had only discussed running away together, there were no hidden credits in offworld bank accounts and when Han had punched the access codes into the Rrakktor's Revenge, she had memorized them.