Three months earlier.
Han opened his eyes. It was morning, or the fairest approximation of morning that space travel offered. Whether trapped in the darkness of sub-light or the blinding glare of the hyperspace lane, morning was a concept built on habit and routine and a particular spacer logic. For Han, morning simply indicated a span of sleep of five hours or more, usually closer to five than eight or nine, and separated by a respectable distance from the previous stretch of rest.
He found himself feeling cheerful this morning.
Leia was still sleeping. During the night they had separated and kept to their sides of the bed. She never liked to be touched while she slept but now that he was awake he used his matrimonial prerogative to roll onto his side away from the wall. Scooting a little closer, he gently spooned his body around hers, careful not to let the contact interrupt her sleep.
Han dozed for a bit; it was blissful, he had to admit, drowsing in bed with nothing in particular waiting for them. A new opportunity, he thought, to reconnect with each other; to give their marriage precedence over all other areas of their lives. Their relationship was always important, yes, Han could attest to that; but their time alone was often interrupted by urgent dispatches or panicky comms or any combination of news that required one of them to break their attention to attend to less pleasant matters.
Leia showed no signs of waking up – another benefit of this current situation, Han thought – so after a while he climbed over her out of the bunk and made his way to the 'fresher. A few minutes later and he was creeping out of the cabin into the Falcon's galley.
It wasn't until his second cup of kaffe that Leia appeared in the lounge. Adorably rumpled from sleep, she slipped in the booth next to him and kissed his shoulder.
"You made it just in time for the last cup," Han greeted her.
Leia nodded but made no move toward the pot in the galley. She looked at her hands and then up at him. "What should we do today?"
"Well." Han debated relaying to her his plan for spending the day working on upgrades to the environmental systems with lots of time allotted for escapades in the cockpit, or the lounge table, or the –
"We're close to the Tallis Hub, aren't we?"
His daydreaming interrupted, Han did a quick calculation of their position since the previous night. "Think so. Maybe another couple of hours?"
"Let's stop," Leia said. "Pick up some supplies. See if there's any interesting news from the spacer network."
"Listen to you," Han teased. "Can't stop yourself from gettin' involved."
A week ago that statement would have been a barb irritating a fresh wound. Despite the fact that this whole arrangement had been Leia's decision, in the beginning she was clearly sensitive to comments on her abrupt change of heart. Han knew she was secure in her choice, no doubt, but that she was also not accustomed to the different light that decision perhaps cast on her. He was aware and tried to be sensitive to her fluctuating state in the early days of their trip. As he had hoped, over time she had loosened up and her current relaxed manner was further confirmation to both of them that she had been correct all along.
It was near the end of the day and Han was in their apartment when Leia arrived home. He glanced up as she walked in. Looking back, he wondered if he should have intuited that something had shifted within her. Something in her posture, perhaps, or a narrowing of her eyes.
"I'm done," she announced.
"With work for the day?" Han pulled himself up from the couch. "Great. Wanna go out to eat?"
Leia shook her head. "I don't mean that," she said firmly. "I mean I'm done. With all of it. I handed in my resignation to Mon an hour ago."
Han frowned. Her words didn't make any sense. "You resigned? From what?"
"From my job, what else?"
A silence settled around the room. Leia was staring just past him, toward the windows and out to the city skyline and the reddening sky.
"Okaaay," Han said slowly. He sat back down again. "Want to tell me about it?"
"I'm not sure what there is to say." Leia strode past him and dropped her purse and work bag on the side table.
"Pretty sure there's something to say," Han protested. "It's a big decision, quitting your job."
Leia turned to face him. She folded her arms and Han could make out the first stirrings of defensiveness in her manner. "I didn't just come up with the idea today," she told him. "It's been in the back of my mind for a while. Today was just – " She shrugged. "Pulling the trigger."
Had he noticed she had been especially distracted lately? That she had been internally debating a monumental decision such as this one? Han honestly couldn't say that he had. She had been normal – they had been normal – for a good stretch of time and although he prided himself on being alert to the unexpected, clearly he had missed this bombshell coming by a mile.
"And what did Mon say?" he asked.
Leia sighed. "About what you'd expect." She sat down on the opposite end of the couch. A wave of exhaustion passed over her. "She tried to convince me to take some time off instead, to get some rest and then come back refreshed and reinvigorated."
"That's not exactly a bad idea," Han admitted.
"No." Leia crossed her legs tightly. "Except I can't keep working within the New Republic given all the recent changes. Especially when the Senate insists on elevating former Imperial officials to oversee divisions devoted to galactic operations."
"Tolwar?" The senator from Orish had been a hot topic of late among political insiders and also on the newsfeeds.
"Well, he's a big part of it," Leia said. "But there are others too. Kaarl. Ashmin. And those who are aligned with them. They've all managed to worm their way into leadership positions and pull up the ladder behind them."
Han chose his words carefully. "I'm sure Mon would say – did say – that there are too many beings associated with the Empire with that kind of experience to keep them all out of the government."
"She did say that," Leia responded archly. "And I told her I understood the logic but I couldn't participate in these changes. Not any longer."
Han wondered if Mon was similarly tempted to withdraw from the government. But she was a fighter, she would stay until the end. Up until a few minutes ago he would have said the same about Leia.
"So what does this mean for you?" Han said after a moment. For us. "What's next?"
Leia stood and started for their bedroom. She tossed her head over her shoulder and met his eyes briefly. "We fly."
And so they had. There were times since they departed Chandrila when Han had to force himself to tamp down an annoyance that Leia had made this decision for the two of them on a whim and without talking to him first. After all, he had a burgeoning one-man consulting business that was keeping him busy during the week and had settled into their lives on-planet to a greater extent than he would have thought possible. But in an effort to appease Leia, he told himself that he could tie up loose ends with his current clients from the Falcon and take a pause on accepting new business. One of the many benefits of working for yourself, he thought at the time.
And he had to admit that their retreat to his ship and the freedom of space travel appealed to him at a larger level. Flying was in his blood and was almost a bigger part of him than Leia was. They would figure something out regarding careers and money, and in the meantime they were ensconced on his ship, together, enjoying more downtime than they had ever experienced. Han knew there were far worst situations to be in.
As if to solidify her decision, Leia had deactivated her comm and left it locked up in their Chandrila apartment. News of her departure from the government would get out and she could anticipate the sympathetic inquiries from friends: Are you okay? Are you sure this is what you want? What about that treaty you were working on, and that project you were leading? What are you thinking in terms of your future? What does Han have to say about all of this?
Leia couldn't stand the thought of those questions. Han assumed she was struggling with some residual guilt and asked her about it on the second day of their trip.
"I gave everything – everything – to the war," she responded passionately. "I've worked diligently in the New Republic for three years, day after day after day. Now things are breaking down and nothing I've done all these years can prevent that from happening. So, no, I don't feel guilty."
She never intimated whether she thought Mon should have made a similar move. It would have left the galaxy worse off, but if Leia was right, if the political degradation and encroaching authoritarianism was inevitable, could even Mon stop it?
And so she had no comm and refused to say goodbyes in person prior to leaving Chandrila. She didn't even want to see Luke. Han knew she communicated with him through the Force, somehow, and of course Luke was attuned to current events especially when they concerned his sister. Anyone else important, Leia figured, could reach her through Han.
"Lucky for you I never answer my comm," Han had joked when she mentioned that to him. "Sooner or later people'll figure that out and stop trying."
Their apartment would take care of itself, they decided. They had no pets and only a few houseplants which were already hooked up to an automatic irrigator. Monthly payments flowed from their bank account to the owners of the building no matter where in the galaxy they were. Han was surprised to discover how free they were, freer than he had thought them to be. What exactly had been tying them down besides Leia's job?
The first few days of their flight had been spent sleeping and reorienting themselves to the realities of daily life on a small freighter. Their abrupt departure felt exciting, even slightly dangerous, and they both overflowed with a spirit of adventure. They had lots of sex.
And then discussions about a destination – a first destination, maybe someplace new to explore – started up. Leia wanted to get out of the Core, away from anything that would remind her of her job and their lives. Their former lives, Han reminded himself.
"How about Galmorra?" he suggested. "We always talked about visiting the reefs there and learning to dive. Now's our chance."
Leia frowned slightly. "Let's put it on the list," she said. She couldn't think of a reason to say no, after all. They had nowhere else to be, nothing more important to do. "How about visiting Kashyyyk?"
"Sure," Han said cheerfully. "I've already told Chewie we might swing by."
"Then you are capable of answering your comm."
"On rare occasions."
And that had been the extent of their itinerary planning. Han was distracted by a faulty release valve in the engine room and an hour later he found Leia in the same position in the booth intently reading a datapad. He sat next to her and proceeded to kiss her neck until she gave in and agreed to accompany him to the cabin.
The days that followed flowed in a similar fashion with nothing in particular standing out until, on this lazy morning, the prospect of docking at the Tallis Hub stirred something within Han. Supplies, he thought. And news. Those were welcome prospects.
"What exactly are you hoping to discover?" He called to Leia from where he was buried in the galley cupboards.
"I'm not sure," she admitted. She had wandered over and leaned against the hatchframe, watching him sort through tins of freeze-dried entrees. "Any updates on Mon's position, I guess. There might have been a recall of Head of State."
"That would be a big move," Han grunted. These spice containers were surely older than he was. Did that mean they were no longer good or that they were appropriately aged? "If that happens, wouldn't we catch wind of the gossip before it hit the newsfeeds?"
"Probably." Leia picked at a thread on her sleeve. "She hasn't sent you a message, has she?"
"Not that I've seen. But you can always reach out to her, you know."
"No." Han glanced up to see that faraway look in her eyes again. "I said all I needed to say. She knows I don't hold anything against her." Leia's voice softened. "She knows."
"Huh." Han stood up and made a note on a scrap of flimsi. He had no idea what the right words were at a time like this. Instead, he took a step forward and pulled his wife gently into his arms. "It's never too late, right? Everyone's capable of changing their mind. Even you." He smiled down at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Maybe even an upright, law-abiding guy like me."
"You'll never change." Leia stretched on tiptoes and kissed the corner of his mouth. "You'll always be a scoundrel. My scoundrel."
Han pondered that. "You're probably right. But everyone changes at some point in their lives."
Later, after the events to take place, he wondered if that were actually true. Maybe change wasn't inevitable for everyone. But at that moment, they were approaching the hub and his wife had a gleam in her eye and Han hadn't changed so much that he could say no to her.
Seen from a distance the wheels of the Tallis Hub were impressive: they lay in elaborate, nested rings, inspired perhaps by a child's toy gyroscope owned by the architect. Spokes intersected the rings at acute angles and led to the central pivot from which the entire edifice orbited around. A modern marvel of engineering, the station turned as a single entity that not only generated an artificial gravity field suitable for most beings but also dazzled the approaching traveler with its hypnotic motion.
Like most hubs, this marvel was surrounded by a force field to protect itself from meteors and space debris and also the occasional attempt at sabotage. To the weary spacer Tallis gleamed and shined in reflected light, promising a comfortable stop; no doubt fresh food, soft beds, and delightful run-ins with old friends would be waiting in such an awe-inspiring environment.
The reality was not nearly as promising, at least in the hub's current state. Leia had only made quick, furtive trips to Tallis during the war when the Empire kept major space stations in a state of spit-shine order. Security was paramount during those years as hubs proved a tempting terrorist target; visitors were carefully screened going in and out and detained on the smallest suspicion. Only her age and the work of the Alliance's finest document forgers had protected the Princess of Alderaan during her Rebellion-era visits.
And now she was back, not as a military victor or a visiting government VIP but as an unemployed former fighter, former Senator, former government official... well, former everything.
As they strode from the docking pad where they had left the Falcon, Leia couldn't help observing the deterioration in the hub's interior. After the Empire fell, operational control of stations was turned over to private enterprise after private enterprise, all with varying results. Some hubs were well-run traveler-friendly ports; others had veered back to their authoritarian roots, compromising the civil rights of visitors in the name of safety; and some, like Tallis, seemed to be decaying at a leisurely rate. Overhead lights flickered and refused to stay fully lit. Furnishings were grungy and trash piled in the corners of corridors. The beings that traipsed through the tubes gave no signs of wanting to linger.
On the other hand, they were off the Falcon for the first time in a week and that alone was a welcome change.
"Let's hit the market first," Han said. "We can grab a droid cart to carry everything we buy."
They rounded one of the rings and made a sharp left into the central spoke. An arch lit up by garish neon lights welcomed them to Tallis's Premier Market, familiarly referred to as the TPM. Stretching before them was a conglomerate of vendor tents and tables surrounded by a fog of food aromas, competing strands of music, and the chatter of nearly a thousand beings weaving and bobbing through the chaos.
Under Imperial control, all space station markets had been organized by type of goods and were strictly taxed; only the fact that these hubs were often the sole providers of specialty planet-based goods kept the sellers from going in the red. After all, for the busy spacer it was much quicker to pop over to the nearest station then to fly all the way to Ralltiir for that one particular item.
The New Republic had lowered the galactic tax rate at the hubs with the expectation that local governance would increase their portion to pay for upkeep of the hub itself. Clearly that tax rate varied by station, Leia thought; given the scrum of beings jostling against the overflowing vendor tables, the rates at TPM must be lower than in other hubs.
Han kept an arm around her as they navigated through the market. Leia cast back to their wartime missions, the danger and the secrecy layered over the simmering sexual tension between her and Han. It had been a heady time and she found herself feeling that familiar tug once again. The danger in peacetime was greatly diminished but it still faintly existed in this chaos. She clutched Han's elbow tightly.
At the food stands they loaded up bags with fresh fruit and vegetables, longer-lasting semi-perishables, and avoided all but the tastiest of the freeze-dried offerings. Han argued with a vendor over the price of sun melons and waved his hand in disgust when the seller refused to budge.
"It's times like this that I really miss having Chewie around," Han grumbled. "One well-placed roar and we would have nabbed those at half-off."
"Over here." Leia waved her bag in the direction of an awning promoting fine candies and dessert wines. Han waited as she scrutinized the offerings before settling on two liter-sized bottles and several tins of sweets.
"Looks like the carts are all in use," Han muttered, shifting the bags from one arm to another. "Where's Threepio when you need him?"
"Several sectors away," Leia replied. "And no doubt he would complain bitterly about being used as a porter."
"Just like old times, huh?" He looked down at her, his face flushed, a smile breaking through the shopping-induced irritation. "What do you say we brave the taproom and grab a bite to eat? It also happens to be the best place to pick up the latest gossip."
After a lengthy trek to the noisy, overheated taproom, they slid into a booth with audible sighs of relief. Leia piled her bags between her and the wall and scanned the menu. Specialties from most Core worlds and mid-rim outposts were interspersed with flash-fried offerings typical of a joint like this.
"No, no," Han was saying to the droid server. He waved his hand to indicate they weren't ready to order yet but the machine had planted itself stubbornly next to their table. "Go help someone else. I want to talk to a real being."
Leia half-watched her husband wander over to the bar before glancing at the nearest holo-screen displaying a familiar sight: a scrum of reporters at press conference with Mon at the podium, impatiently answering heated questions. The restaurant was noisy and the closed captioning was turned off so Leia couldn't deduce the topic of the conference until images of Craetor Prime began to be interspersed with Mon's weary figure. Leia decided it must have to do with the mining strikes there. She had been peripherally involved before her departure, one more effort that had turned out to be completely ineffectual.
Leia recalled her last conversation with the Head of State. If she were honest, it still gnawed at her a bit, the way she resigned, and she had to force herself to remember the points she had made. She also had to remind herself not to elide over the pain she had caused her mentor and friend.
"I'm not going to change my mind, Mon," Leia said firmly. The head of the New Republic government had spent the last half hour reeling off a list of alternative solutions – extended time off, part-time work, a change in responsibilities – that had been deftly deflected. "There's nothing you can say that I haven't thought of."
Mon sighed and rubbed her eyes. "No, I can see that you're set in your decision." A flash of resentment came over the older woman, one she wasn't able to fully conceal. "I can only hope it was a difficult one."
Leia softened. "It was. It's the last one I ever expected to make and it took me a while for me to come to grips with it. I'm not leaving because of you, you know. Your support has meant a lot over the years and I'll miss working with you."
Mon sat back in her chair and folded her arms. "You don't see any hope then, that the current situation will change."
"I don't see any hope for sustained improvement, no. Even if the current cabal of Imperials are pushed out, there's too many of them waiting in the wings and too few of us to counteract them. We're already seeing the effects of the new regulations that allow divisions to rewrite their standards of operations without outside opinion. The Senate had abdicated their authority – and they weren't even pressured to do so! They gave up their power voluntarily. Now the security division can now implement laws that don't have to go to a general vote. The council could overturn this, of course, but given its current configuration and term limits of its members, it's going to be years before we get that chance."
"Before I get that chance," Mon replied archly. "You won't be here."
Leia had anticipated the jibe. "You'll be better off without me, Mon. Tolwar, Ashmin – they won't work with me. I'm too tainted by my early involvement in the Rebellion. You need a fresh start, someone who doesn't have the baggage I carry." She paused, reluctant to say the next part. "And the anti-Imperialists don't trust me either, for obvious reasons. Luke warned me but I didn't want to hear it at the time."
"You're not the only one compromised by your past, Leia," Mon said sharply. "It's a rare being who isn't. But perhaps a longer stretch in the Senate before the Rebellion would have allowed you to form deeper relationships as it did for me. And in the end relationships make the politics possible. Even if we don't agree with our fellow politicians, we can sometimes find a compromise better than the status quo."
"It was our failure that caused this impasse, Mon," Leia said. "We weakened areas we shouldn't have in our fear of becoming like the Empire. And now the machinery of the government is too slow and creaky to adjust to reality."
There was a long silence. Mon gazed sadly around her office. Relics from the wartime period were scattered around. Leia found herself missing that time, missing the certainty she had felt during those years.
"I'll never agree with this decision, Leia," Mon said finally. "But maybe you need to take a different path in your life right now. Just don't blind yourself to where that road may lead you."
"I won't," Leia promised. Paths, roads, journeys... those cliches usually irritated her, but she couldn't come up with a more satisfying response. She knew Mon was trying to frame Leia's betrayal in a way that would help her continue alone. Leia pitied her mentor for that and felt another stab of guilt.
And yet she was undeterred: no matter what lay before her she would never return to her life the way it was now. There was no point to it; it was a waste, worse than a waste. There was something else out there waiting for her, something she could build that would reflect her own aims and purpose in life. She only had to find it.
And that had been the last conversation between those two veterans of the Rebellion. It didn't surprise her that Mon hadn't reached out since then; nothing remained to be said.
Pulling herself back to the menu, Leia was debating the entrée options when an unfamiliar figure plopped down in the booth across from her. She looked up to see a lean, twitchy man with a mop of blonde hair staring at her intently. Instinctively, her hand went to her hip and fingered the compact blaster that rested in its holster. Concealed carry was still allowed at most hubs, for now at least.
"You are the Princess. I knew it!"
A quick glance at his body – or at least the parts Leia could see – didn't reveal any serious threats. She decided to play it cool. There was plenty of backup muscle in a dive like this and Han was within eyeshot.
"Who wants to know?"
"Me." When additional clarifying information was not forthcoming, Leia sighed. "And you are...?"
"A fan." The man winked boldly but it came off more like an inside joke than a threat. "I've been following your career for a while now. Since you were a girl."
Leia flipped over the menu. "You must have a lot of time on your hands," she said distractedly.
"Some." The admission was guileless. "I saw you resigned from the government."
"That's very perceptive of you."
"You got any plans for the future?"
Leia focused again on her interlocutor. Still smiling, he radiated a harmless curiosity. "This and that," she said vaguely.
"Playing it cool, I see." The smile on the man's face widened. "Not a surprise. But I expect great things from you."
Out of the corner of her eye Leia saw Han approach the booth. He slid in next to her and put a warm hand on her thigh. "Beat it, pal. This party doesn't include you."
"I have a transport to catch anyway," the man said. He stood and held out his hand. When there were no takers he pulled it back and shrugged cheerfully. "Nice talking with you, Princess. I'm sure we'll run into you again."
"We?" Leia repeated, but the blonde head had already disappeared in the tide of beings moving in the direction of the docks.
"Did you recognize him from anywhere?" she asked Han.
"Never seen him before. But there are plenty of nuts in a joint like this. He was probably high on spice too." He gave Leia's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Did you catch the news conference?"
"A little. Doesn't look like things have fallen apart yet if they're focusing on the strikes."
Han was studying her and Leia met his eyes only briefly. "Did you pick up any news at the bar?"
"Nothing of note. Most of the talk around here is around the change in station management. Everyone's worried it's going to mean less credits in pockets and more taken out for overhead."
"Complaining about taxes – that's new," Leia said drily.
"Yeah, yeah, keep it up."
After eating they looped the bags over their arms and prepared to head back to the Falcon.
"Do you have the wine?"
Leia checked her bags. "No. I thought you did."
"I did." Han juggled a melon to keep it from slipping onto the floor. "I don't see the bottles anywhere. Blondie must have walked off with them."
"Really?" That surprised Leia. "He didn't come across as a petty thief."
"The good ones never do." Her husband heaved a sigh and lifted up his arm for her to duck under. "We'll hit that vendor again on the way back. And make sure our next stop is someplace less crowded."
There was no sign of the man or anyone else suspicious as they made their way back through the market. But Leia felt vulnerable all the same, which was strange, she thought, now that she had no need for subterfuge. Crowds had always been an advantage during the Rebellion; safety in numbers to shield her from her true purpose. But now she was just one of many in the crowd, an extra body to provide an opportunity for someone else's plot. Now, events would move around her, not through her. Instead of being the instigator she would be an obstacle. If the events and the beings who directed them even took notice of her, that is.
It was an odd feeling, she reflected, and yet once she moved past this new vulnerability she found it comforting. Things would happen on their own, with or without her direction. Others could pitch battle against ideological foes and wrestle with stubborn politicians and see if they could do better than she had. For once, it wasn't all up to her.