The smell of bacta hit Leia first. It drifted down the corridor on a wave of medicinal odors, a pungent reminder of every other outpost medcenter she had visited and one accompanied by other telltale signs: poor lighting, dank air, environmental systems limping along to the best of their abilities. The beings in the facility move around in dazed exhaustion, an aura of both hurriedness and futility accompanying their movements.
After the initial steps into the corridor, the bacta odor began to wane, overtaken by the stench of infection originating from the rooms sprouting off the main artery. Leia made a mental note: there was likely not enough bacta given the extent of the patients' conditions. There were also too many bodies for the space; what had surely been intended as double rooms had three or even four beds crammed in. Cots lined one side of the hallway containing the more mobile patients; the worst cases seemed to reside behind closed doors.
The patients they passed were quiet, mostly. A few sounds escaped that were accompanied by limbs shifting gingerly under the sheets. Leia found herself averting her eyes from the worst cases and then felt guilty; she always had forced herself to look and to fully witness what atrocities had been done in the Empire's name although she was the last person to need a reminder.
"Almost all of them were injured in the attack," the medic was saying. "The most recent one, anyway. The rest are waiting to be transferred to a less-critical facility." Gaile gestured at the temporary cots and smiled apologetically at Han and Leia. "I'm afraid it's not up to our usual standards. We ran out of space weeks ago."
The longer Leia stood in the corridor, the darker and heavier the air felt. It was a breeding ground for infection, she knew, particularly with patients crowded close together, inhabiting every centim of space not taken up by carts of instruments and aging machines.
"Do you have a Two One-Bee?" Han was asking.
Gaile shook her head tiredly. "We did but it was requisitioned by another facility. Believe it or not, this isn't the worst of what we're facing."
A datapad-wielding nurse approached them and gestured through a doorway to a patient – a woman? Leia couldn't tell – lying in bed swathed in bandages. A quiet discussion between Gaile and the nurse ensued and ended with a quick nod of the medic's head along with a scrawled signature.
Surveying the spaces and mentally making a tally of beds, med-carts, and available supplies, Leia's heart sank when she spied a set of double doors at the far end of the hall outlined by pastel borders and faded stickers of cartoon characters. She didn't want to look but looked all the same; the medic noticed and lowered her voice even further.
"The children's wing," she said softly. Winding between the obstacles, she led Han and Leia to the doors. "Many have been orphaned in the attacks. We devote as much of our resources as we can to these patients, but in some cases there is only so much we can do."
Inside the wing, two nurses busied themselves at bedsides, darting in and out of rooms. The wing was brighter and noisier with some of the youngest children still swaddled in diapers and miniature tunics. Leia walked slowly, entering every room, training her gaze on the faces peeking out from the top of the bedsheets. She smiled instinctively, trying to transmit an image of royal comfort she had witnessed in her mother; wide-eyed and dazed, the children stared shyly back at her.
"Is there a bacta tank for them?" she inquired.
"We've never had a tank," Gaile replied. "That would frankly be a dream come true. Our stores of bacta-based therapies are dwindling and our antibiotics are almost entirely depleted. We're saving the remaining few doses for our worst-off patients."
"And other supplies? What would be at the top of your list of needs?" Leia ignored Han's eyes boring into her and focused instead on the medic.
"Well..." Gaile rattled off a lengthy list of supplies and medications. "We used to get occasional shipments from Bessos." Leia recognized the name of an Imperial stronghold, one of the Empire's most distant outposts. "But our courier disappeared weeks ago and we haven't found a replacement."
"Do you have a contact on the planet?" Leia asked.
"We do," said Gaile. "I can get you his information. He's been touchy about being in direct contact with us, given what happened to the most recent courier. But if there's any way for the two of you to arrange a delivery..." She trailed off.
Leia recognized the swelling of hope only to be tamped down by the brutal realities in which those in charge of caring for others found themselves. She knew the draining exhaustion induced by extremes of emotions that flourished in a climate such as this and most beings in similar situations inevitably trained themselves to withstand the temptations of a rosy outcome.
While Leia stood silent, mulling, Han touched Gaile's shoulder. "Can you please excuse us for a minute?"
He led Leia back through the doors into the adult wing and through the maze of cots to a nook off the corridor. They squeezed between carts of dirty linens and broken monitors to a sheltered spot along the wall.
Han leaned against the tiled panel and folded his arms. "Leia, whatever you're thinking, we're not gonna fly the Falcon to a place like Bessos and get out of there in one piece. It's a fool's errand."
"It's not far from here," Leia argued. "It's what – twelve, fifteen hours?"
"Doesn't matter how near or far it is." Han shook his head. "It's a huge risk, especially with no back-up for the two of us and holos of the ship plastered at every port. Besides, we already delivered the stuff they requested. If they were in dire need of medicine they should have asked."
"I know." Leia rubbed her forehead tiredly. There were a wealth of planets like this one, clinging onto a thread of hope that someone, anyone, would come to their aid in their time of need.
"It's been a long trip already," Han continued. "We're running low on supplies and there aren't a lot of good options out here for restocking. The cost-benefits aren't worth it for what amounts to a single crate of medicine."
"'Cost-benefits'?" Leia quoted. "You're starting to sound like the Alliance procurement director." When Han ignored that, she sighed. "I'm well aware we're not running a charitable organization. Not primarily, anyway. But I struggle to find a way to tell them no." She nodded in the direction of the cots nearest them. "At least not yet."
"Leia." Han focused above her head. "This entire scene is engineered to tug at people's sympathies. Especially for someone like you."
"Engineered?" Her voice rose sharply. "You think those patients missing legs are somehow fake?"
"I didn't say that." His tone lowered. "Just that it doesn't hurt to be cautious. Even the most selfless people can become so desperate they end up doing things they wouldn't normally do. You have a rather large bounty on your head, in case you've forgotten." At this reminder she glared at him. "And comm-ing their contact on an Imperial-run planet out of the blue that you'll be stopping by to pick up a stash of medicine... well, just think of all the supplies they could buy with the reward credits."
"That could happen any time," Leia argued. "There's no reason to think we're facing a greater risk here than anywhere else."
"Yeah, well, the odds don't exactly improve the longer we do this," Han shot back.
"I thought you didn't care about the odds," Leia retorted. "Or is that no longer your life motto?"
Han's face darkened but he ignored the provocation. "We can message the fleet and have them prepare another shipment," he said. "It's a much smarter idea than a last-minute attempt to swing by a hostile planet and hope for the best. If it doesn't work out, we'll have lost time launching a new run out here."
Deep down Leia knew he wasn't entirely wrong but the moral weighing of hypothetical actions was not something she wanted to dwell on at the moment. Drawing herself up, she started back toward the rooms.
"I'm going go to help. You're welcome to come along or wait here. I don't know how long I'll be."
The following hour was spent helping with whatever the nurses needed help with. Leia split her time between the two wings with Han undertaking to move around whatever heavier items needed repositioning. Leia made a point to linger for longer at the beds of those who had bloodied, bandaged limbs or portions of limbs. Opportunities for rehabilitation would be limited; she took notes on her datapad of post-discharge aids to send with a future Alliance shipment.
At one point she found herself rocking a three-month old boy in her arms. Abrasions lined the side of his small body and up and down one arm but those had mostly healed. One of the lucky ones, Gaile had told her, aside from the fact that his parents were missing and by now presumed dead. Once recovered he would enter one of the Kyrosian orphanages, no doubt joining an influx of other children rescued from the rubble.
A week ago Leia and Han had departed from base, stopping for short excursions along the way that included dropping off Chewie for a long-awaited reunion with his mate and cub. When they reached Kyros, the recipient of the bulk of the supplies lining the inside of the Falcon's hull, they had already dodged two firefights and come close to being boarded while docked at a spaceport. Only a few hours had separated their narrow escape and subsequent arrival at Kyros.
Earlier in the day they had met with local resistance leaders in a half-shelled storage building twenty kilometers from the medcenter. The trade had been arranged by Leia's team: techkits, comms supplies, ready-to-eat meals, and limited amounts of ammunition had been brought from the Alliance base; in return, the Kyrosian resistance had passed off intelligence gained from Imperial captives and as many combat troops as could be spared. If all went well, those troops would be returning in another few months at the head of a larger Alliance-led push on the planet.
Until then, the visit had been not unlike others; war-torn planets were a dime a dozen, even here on the outer edges of civilization. Imperial strategy seemed to fluctuate between focusing on those worlds in the interior versus shoring up strength along the rim. Both strategies presented challenges to the Alliance and the list of civilizations requesting help from the rebels was growing by the day.
The stop at the medcenter had been unplanned but during their conversation with the resistance one thing had led to another and Han and Leia had found themselves bundled into an armored speeder and ushered to the facility. That action had put Han on edge; being pushed and pulled by others in various directions of their choosing always grated on him. Leia had kept her composure, aware that being witness to the effects of attacks often made a small but noticeable difference in morale; although the Empire hotly denied evidence of atrocities when presented by the Alliance, beings throughout the galaxy not so loyal to Palpatine might eventually take notice.
The baby in her arms blinked slowly, his eyes locked on Leia's face. No longer whimpering, he had quieted down in unfamiliar arms without much trouble; sound sleep in a place like this was no doubt difficult to come by.
Han came up behind her. "Ready to go?"
"Yes, just a minute." She passed him the baby without asking and did a round of leave-taking from those patients who were awake. When she came back to Han, he was holding the baby awkwardly, bumping it up and down in a jerky half-motion as a new round of fussiness threatened.
"Gently," she instructed, taking the bundle from him. She refastened the corner of the wrap and nestled the startled being in the crook of her elbow. The baby seemed to recognize her, or she hoped he did, and after some soft rocking Leia placed him back in his bassinet where under the swaddle his little feet kicked ineffectually. She patted his head until his eyelids fluttered shut and then she stepped softly away.
Gaile intercepted them as soon as they made a movement to leave.
"Can we help make arrangements for you to pick up medicine on Bessos?" She again rattled off her list of pharmaceuticals in order of priority while Leia scribbled notes. "In the past our contact was able to obtain most of them on short notice. He manages one of the factories there."
"We'll see what we can do," Leia said smoothly. There was no use making promises that couldn't be kept. "I'll be in touch after we take off."
"Please." The medic's eyes held a renewed desperation. "Many of the patients won't last much longer. The worst of the infections will set in in the next day or two."
Leia nodded and pressed Gaile's hand between her own. "We understand. Thank you for taking the time to show us around."
She and Han found their speeder and escort parked in an alleyway. Having successfully quelled local opposition by razing much of the livable portions of Kyros, Imperial forces had mostly departed the planet and the risk of Alliance exposure had lessened. The ride to the Falcon was quiet, with Leia making additional notes while Han stared out the window. The one time she spoke to him, to confirm the number of rooms in the facility, he only grunted a reply.
Her frustration increased as Han piloted them off the planet and into hyperspace. She knew he was pointedly ignoring not only her but her specific proposal to detour to Bessos. Never exactly easygoing, Leia recalled that Han had been acting like this more and more frequently: subject to whims of opaque reasoning and seemingly working against her whenever they had a difference of opinion, which was not infrequent.
When Han rose from his chair, still mute, Leia stalked out of the cockpit after him.
"Are you planning on telling me where we're going?" she demanded. "Or even giving me a hint of what you're thinking?"
He spun around to face her. "You want to know what I'm thinking? Really?" When she nodded, he continued. "I'm thinking that we finished the mission we set out to do and should be headed back to the fleet."
"Should be or are?"
Han huffed in frustration. "What kind of pilot would I be if I flew us to a place like that completely at whim?"
"You'd be someone who is in a position to help those in need."
"Leia." He waved tiredly toward the cockpit viewport. "There's a whole galaxy of beings in need of help. I know you know that. I also know that you yourself will be no help to the Alliance if you're captured or killed."
"The Alliance doesn't run on the basis of a single person," she countered. "They'll manage without me."
"That's great." Han rolled his eyes. "I feel much better knowing that you hold your life – and mine, apparently – in such high regard."
Leia ignored his sarcasm. "Before we left Gaile gave me their contact's information." Before Han could protest she held up her hands in reassurance. "I didn't pass along my comm address to her and I didn't reveal any of our plans. Not that I'm privy to them apparently," she added under her breath. "Believe it or not, I do on occasion listen to your advice."
"I'm honored." Han sat down heavily in the booth. "If we do this – and I'm not saying we are, but if – I'm not taking the Falcon to Bessos. That's the stupidest kriffin' move we could make."
"You've taken her worse places," Leia shot back. A number of Imperial-controlled planets and territories popped into her head before she remembered it had been no small effort to convince Han to undertake those trips either.
"Then I'm overdue for some bad luck and I'd rather not collect on that payment today."
"Fine." Han hated to abandon his ship, hated it, Leia knew. The scene in the medcenter must have done a number on him too if he were even considering it. Still, it rankled that he was the one determining their destination and route. He wasn't in charge, after all; she was.
"It's not up to you, you know," she found herself saying. "This is Alliance business and our pilots go where they're ordered. Even the contractors, at least those who wish to have their contracts continued in good standing."
His expression turned stony. "So it's Alliance business now, is it? And here I thought it was a hare-brained scheme cooked up while duties await us back with the fleet."
"Duties?" she spat at him. "Who are you to lecture about duty? My entire life is duty and I'm not the one refusing to do this." The self-pity evident in her tone only irritated her further; she knew it was weak to indulge. "All you do is resist further responsibilities besides the few you have."
Han stared at her for a long minute. "You keep saying things like that to me," he said quietly. "But it's not true and you know it's not true." He stood up and started toward the cockpit. "It's a deflection, a defense," he said over his shoulder. "It's been obvious for a long time, Leia, at least to everyone else. Somehow you're the last to realize it."
Leia watched him disappear into the cockpit and lock the hatch behind him. Drawing in a shaky breath, she slowly unclenched her fists. I don't know why I bother welled up unbidden within her. She wasn't naïve: she knew she pushed him, perhaps unnecessarily so; but gods knew he didn't give her reason after reason to do so.
Mind blank, she went to the galley and filled a glass with water. She drank it and then turned the faucet back on and splashed water on her face. It dripped down her cheeks and onto the counter as she stared vacantly at the wall. This wasn't the worst fight they'd had but it hurt all the same. It always hurt, fighting with him.
I'm tired of hurting. Another thought that arose spontaneously but one that was undeniably true. And deep down she recognized it as a truth she couldn't bring herself to say, at least not now and not to Han.
What would have to change for them to not be at each other's throats? She had always assumed each of them would have to change individually, to alter something intrinsic in themselves in order to fit together, and she had long resisted that idea. She wanted to be who she was and thought he wanted the same: no compromising of their personalities and priorities for anyone else. But that didn't fully explain their friendship, the slow intertwining of their lives that had occurred over months and months, and she couldn't help thinking that there was a missing piece of the puzzle she couldn't quite figure out.
What she did know was that she was too tired to ruminate any further tonight. Back in the booth, she occupied herself with preparing a message for High Command: an update on the first part of their day, their real purpose for taking the long trip out to this backwater when there were a million other responsibilities waiting for her on the base.
Leia sat listlessly, scanning her messages, as images of limbless bodies drifted through her head. Maybe Han was right. Maybe there were other problems that would be easier to solve and would preserve more lives in the end.
She was about to give up and turn in for the night when her comm beeped. A string of coordinates flashed on the screen.
Leia pulled them up on her device's nav chart. They didn't correspond to the exact location of Bessos but they weren't far off. Another twelve hours or so of flying time assuming they stayed in this hyperspace lane.
She stared at the coordinates, confusion and wonder burgeoning within her. A peace offering, perhaps. Or maybe Han had discovered his own reasons for taking this step. Whatever it was, she made a vow to resist pushing him further – at least for now.