Chapter Three:
It was more or less twenty-four standard hours after her orientation day before Garris sent in her first 'companion'. Mara kept her sheet firmly in place as the door closed behind the man. He was a scrawny thing, Mara noted, with stringy brown hair and a sallow complexion. His dark eyes were torn between lust for the woman in the room, and nerves about actual performing.
Mara decided to use his nerves to her advantage.
"Hello there," she purred, using her training to pitch her voice just so. "You look a little distraught there."
He thinned his lips, but took a few steps closer to her. "I came for some woman's company, not to hear her jabber."
"Are you certain you can… y'know." Mara let the statement hang, watching him carefully for a reaction.
He didn't disappoint. "I can, you wretch!" was his indignant reply. "I can perform as well as the next man in your line."
Mara lifted an imperious eyebrow. "You'll forgive me if I have my doubts."
He seethed, and Mara snickered to herself.
"I like experienced men, and you don't seem that type," Mara went on, trying to throw salt on the open wound.
He faltered, and Mara knew she had him.
"I… I can do this!" he pepped himself.
"No, honey, you can't," Mara reasoned in her best sympathetic tone. "Best try your luck another time."
He fidgeted where he stood, eyes glued to her mostly hidden frame, but he didn't advance. Mara waited to see what he'd do, willing to use other- more painful- methods if he puckered his courage.
But then he threw up his hands in disgust and stormed out, not seeing Mara's triumphant smirk.
00000
Han Solo entered the smaller of the two mess halls on board the Alliance's flagship, his eyes automatically scanning the crowd. His attention was diverted partway through by the cook of the day calling his name.
"Hey, General!"
Han did a double-take to find Wes Janson behind the counter, using a serving utensil to encourage him to get a plate.
Han lifted a wary brow, approaching the Rouge Squadron pilot. "How'd you end up on kitchen duty, Janson?"
Wes grimaced. "Lost a bet to Hobbie."
Han smirked. Derek 'Hobbie' Klivian and Wes Janson were inseparable, and they loved to play pranks both on other people and each other. Han's curiosity got the better of him, and he accepted a plate from the pilot.
"What was the bet this time?"
Wes grinned. "Whether or not Calrissian would keep the Falcon in one piece at Endor."
Han grumbled a little at that memory, but didn't begrudge the pilot his fun. That battle had been a huge victory for them all. Han turned away from the counter with a little salute and moved toward a random table.
He stopped in his tracks when he spotted a familiar figure in the farthest corner of the room. Luke Skywalker was huddled over his table, his chin resting in one hand as he absent-mindedly poked at something on the slab before him.
Han redirected to join him, frowning a little as his friend remained unresponsive even when he approached the table from slightly behind. Once upon a time Han could have snuck up on Luke easily, but now that he was a Jedi that task was darn near impossible.
Han saw that the kid's mind was clearly elsewhere, and every now and then he'd make a note, or scribble something on the object before him. Han craned his neck to catch a glimpse of what held the kid's attention so fastidiously, and saw that he was using a stylus to inch a piece of flimsi about the tabletop.
Han's jaw dropped, and the plate of food almost went with it when he saw what was on the page. The fact that he'd never seen Luke draw anything was completely forgotten as the image came into focus. It was of a woman in extremely skimpy lingerie, chained by her ankle to a metal bed frame.
"By the stars, Luke," Han exclaimed, watching as the Jedi nearly jumped out of his skin at his sudden statement. "What in space are you doing?"
Luke spotted Han and instantly tried to hide the drawing, his face turning as red as Darth Vader's lightsaber. Han took notice of the stares suddenly directed their way, and felt foolish for drawing attention like that.
Han took a seat across from Luke, who refused to look up from where he'd buried his face in one hand, while the other was placed firmly over the image. The color had yet to fade from the Jedi's visage, though.
Han glared at anyone still watching them, a warning to give them privacy, and once they all complied he reached across the table and snatched the flimsi.
"HAN!" Luke shouted indignantly.
He tried in vain to snatch the image back, his eyes slightly panicked, but Han held it just out of reach, trying to get a better look. Han was enjoying teasing Luke, who was clearly put-out by Han discovering his 'secret', and in the thrill of the moment opened his mouth.
"Is this some kind of fantasy of yours, Kid?" Han asked before his brain caught up with him.
Luke froze, his hand midway through reaching for the flimsi again, and— though Han hadn't thought it possible— he turned a shade redder. Luke's eyes went wide with disbelief that Han had asked that, and his breathing was short and hard.
Han took one look at Luke and knew he'd screwed up, but before he could say anything more Luke was on his feet and racing from the room. Han let out a string of multi-language curses and, stuffing the image in a pocket, he followed.
He made it into the hallway just in time to see Luke duck down a side corridor, and Han sprinted after him.
"Luke!" Han called, trying to get him to stop, or at least slow down, but if the Jedi heard him he didn't give any indication.
Han chased the Jedi through the corridors until he saw Luke finally dive through a doorway, the hatch slamming shut behind him. Han reached the door, doubling over for a moment to catch his breath. He frowned when he realized they were deep in the bowels of Home One where the storerooms were.
But the door Luke had plunged through was a maintenance hatch, used to gain access the guts of the huge vessel. Han looked up and down the corridor, saw it was empty save for him, and tried the door.
To his great relief it opened, and Han closed it behind him. He saw that the space was dark save for red safety lighting, which lent the room an eerie feeling, what with all the electrical branch-lines, truncated cables and tubing.
Han heard pacing up ahead on metal deck plating, and he prowled cautiously forward even as he reminded himself that the Jedi probably knew he was there. What he wasn't expecting was to find Luke clenching and unclenching his hands tightly… and trying hard not to break down into sobs.
When Han's feet stepped from the narrow walkway into the larger room, Luke stopped so suddenly Han was taken aback.
"Have you come to insult me again, Han?" Luke bit out. "Because I am not in the mood for that."
Han held up his hands. "Hey, Kid, I'm sorry."
Luke threw up his hands. "How the hell could you think I would ever want that for any woman!"
Han looked away guiltily as Luke began pacing again, though his line was much shorter this time around. He was clearly distraught, and Han knew then that there was more going on here than met the eye.
"Luke…what I said was way out of line," Han said softly. "I'm sorry."
Luke stopped again, no longer able to hold in his tears: they fell hotly down his face, searing Han's hear with each drip-drop off Luke's ruddy cheeks.
"You can be really thoughtless sometimes, you know that?" Luke asked, though the acid in his voice had vanished, to be replaced by hurt.
With a world-weary sigh, Luke sank to the floor, leaning back against the safety railing and running a hand through his hair. Han kicked himself mentally, and on a whim he tugged the flimsi from his pocket, this time really looking at the image.
Aside from the woman, who was strikingly beautiful— though of course he preferred Leia— there was a barren room surrounding her. Yet the empty space was taken up by random scribbling:
'Pleasure-slave'… 'dirty'… 'gloomy, moist'… 'save me'…
Han saw that the largest and most pronounced word was 'Garris', which had been underlined heavily, circled and starred.
Taking in all these new facts, Han realized that this was anything but a sick fantasy for the kid. Luke was trying to piece clues together, and the woman was at the center of it all.
Han felt shame wash through him. His gaze lifted to rest upon Luke, who had his knees up. His elbows rested on them while he cradled his head in his hands, a few tufts of hair sticking through his fingers. Han determined to make this up to the kid.
Seating himself next to the man he now called brother, Han cleared his throat.
"You know, if you want, Lando has a lot of connections. I could ask him if this Garris rings any bells." He offered.
Luke didn't even lift his head as he mumbled a response. "I've had both Alliance Intelligence and Artoo running the name… or place, for nearly two days now and they haven't found a thing."
"Maybe because this guy's under their radar?" Han suggested mildly.
Luke finally glanced at Han, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes as he considered what Han was saying.
"Do you really think Lando would know anything?" he inquired.
"It's worth a shot." Han shrugged. "Actually, the name does kind of strike a chord, though I can't say why."
Luke lifted a brow at that, and then gazed back at the drawing.
"Actually, I never thought to look in the Underground." Luke's voice was contemplative. "That would explain the conditions I saw her in."
Han blinked. "'Saw her?'"
Luke glanced at him, and seemed to realize he'd only offered half a thought. But then he nodded.
"I saw her in a vision." He admitted, looking down.
Han's gaze stopped on the woman's face, trying to place it, but nothing about her seemed familiar at all. He frowned as a thought occurred to him: Luke spoke as though he knew this woman, and yet, there was no name given as to who she was.
"Who is she, Kid?" Han asked gently, trying not to be offensive.
Luke shrugged soundlessly, though Han didn't need the kid's Force abilities to sense his reluctance. Han rested a hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"Hey, I promise not to laugh again, Luke. You can tell me anything."
Luke gazed at him without lifting his head, taking in his words, and then he sighed softly.
"I don't know, really." He began. "I… I saw her a few months ago… during the rescue at Jabba's. She is definitely Force-sensitive, Han. I felt her mind brush mine, and then when I saw her in person…" Luke finally lifted his head, gaining fervor with each hesitant sentence. "All I saw clearly were her eyes, but when our gazes locked… Han, I've never experienced anything like it before.
"There was this… I don't know, a zing, between us, and a connection was forged. I don't know if it was a pre-destined thing by the Force that we should connect the second our eyes met, but she is definitely a special woman." Luke looked to the picture, his excitement at describing the moment dying as he recalled her predicament. "And the other night while I was meditating, her image came to me in a vision: this very scene actually, and then she whispered for help. And it was like I was standing there with her, I heard her so clearly. She was calling for help… and she was so frightened Han."
Luke finally met his gaze. "I have to find her, Han: I need to help this woman. I just know she's special to me. It may not be love, at least not yet, but I cannot deny that she and I are meant to be together in some capacity."
Han didn't miss the loneliness in Luke's finishing remarks, nor the fragile hopes that he could find someone to love as Han and Leia had. Han knew Luke had given up actively vying for Leia long before she and the smuggler had admitted their feelings for one another.
And that was before he knew of their familial connection.
Even so, Han knew the Jedi was lonely. Han had spied Luke watching them longingly from time to time when he thought Han and Leia wouldn't notice.
"Luke, don't go after her in the hopes of winning her heart." Han cautioned gently. "Damsels in distress often shift from infatuation with their rescuer to someone else."
Luke didn't say anything for a moment, but when he nodded, it was full of understanding.
"I am going because she needs help, and it's the right thing to do," Luke said. "I know that with every fiber if my being, Han. And besides, I don't think she's going to be in the frame of mind for anything romantic after what she's been subjected to."
Han nodded. "Yeah. Well, hey, I'll give Lando the name and see what he comes up with, okay?"
"Alright." Luke smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Han."