First chapter in a while. I've been tooling around with this since March. Don't know when or if I'll be posting more chapters, but should that happen, this chapter is the standard I'm setting for future writing.
Han Solo hated it when Beckett was proven right.
It happened a great deal more than he liked. On melancholic nights when he was into his fifth glass of something good Han would grudgingly admit to Chewbacca, with no small amount of drunken slurring, that his one-time mentor had known a thing or two.
The one "principle" (if such a word could seriously be used in the same sentence as the name Tobias Beckett) the man had repeated more than any other in the short time he and Han had known each other was to trust no one.
"Assume everyone will betray you, and you will never be disappointed." Beckett had often said.
Han had traveled to Saleucami to meet with Grizz Freenz, an underworld contact from the old days who claimed to have intel on an Imperial weapons shipment. It was common knowledge in many corners now that Han Solo ran with the Rebel Alliance. Freenz, who had done jobs for the Imperial Moff of the Halthor sector back when his mercenary group worked there, was blacklisted by Rebel Intelligence and Rebellion-backed privateers often raided his ships-he hoped to cut a deal to end this. Freenz had sworn when he contacted Han that he no longer worked with Imperials.
"It was that damned Death Star!" Freenz had said. "I knew there were crazies in some parts of the Empire's armed forces, but that was straight from Imperial command! No more! No more!"
The purpose of the meeting had been apparently to trade his intel for a promise to let his ships move through the hyperlanes unmolested by Alliance forces. The Princess had barely seemed to care when Han told her-it was only small-time intel, and Freenz hadn't seemed to be all that in with the Empire even when he was a collaborator. That intelligence officer General Draven had been in her office at the time, and agreed to order attacks on Freenz to cease if the intel checked out.
"Don't die." was all she said. Han bit back with his usual piece about how ungrateful they all were and why did he even bother sticking his neck out for them anyway, and oh by the way don't you remember how it was him who helped the kid blow up the Death Star? She didn't respond, and Han stormed out.
What Han was angriest about was of course the fact that Beckett was, yet again, proven right. Grizz Freenz's thugs had jumped him and Chewie as soon as they entered the cantina in Taleucema they were to meet him in. Han was knocked out by a stun blast shot from Freenz himself, while two goons threw an electroshock net over Chewie.
Han came to as Freenz's thugs dragged them out back. Freenz himself followed, examining Han's blaster pistol. Han looked to Chewie-he was in a slave collar and cuffed.
"You said you weren't with the Empire anymore!" Han spat.
Freenz shrugged. "I'm not. I really do think the Death Star crazy. Besides, not a lot of Imperial jobs for an alien merc these days." Freenz was an Arcona, a humanoid species with triangle-shaped heads and a pair of large eyes set wide apart.
"But-"
"Don't be stupid Solo. You really think I'm so worried about raided ships? These people are Rebel flunkies. More morals than brains." Freenz sneered. "Like what you've turned into."
Han scowled, but Freenz didn't seem to notice. He continued. "I don't lose many men. Lotta credits worth of supplies stolen, but they think if they kill any of the prisoners they taken, they will feel guilty, boo-hoo. I just need to arm the ships with some good cannons. Scare off that Rebel poodo. I need the credits to buy though. And you, you two are walking credits, ha ha." Chewbacca began to growl. Han realised what was happening.
"Oh come on, not you too-"
"Mighty Jabba will pay handsomely for Han Solo and his Wookiee."
Force damn it all.
Chewbacca roared furiously
"Look, we can talk this over." Han said. His mind raced. "Let-let's get out a drink, huh? Talk this over? That intel you promised-the rebels will keep their word. Your ships will be free to travel. Hell, I can talk up how good your guys are, get you a job as rebel privateers-oof!" Freenz punched him.
"I do not work for terrorists!" the Arcona spat. "I am disillusioned with the Empire as it is now, but I still believe in its message of order, and I believe it will change. The Emperor cannot live forever. The Empire will win the war. When he is gone, when your Rebel Alliance loses, there will be none more of these superweapons."
"Yeah, because then Darth Vader takes over and he'd prefer to kill us all one-by-one. I think it's more fun for him that way."
"The picture people have of Darth Vader is a myth, based offa scattered rumors and propaganda from you rebels."
"Okay, I can confirm that's not true. Vader is terrifying." Freenz kicked Han in response. Chewie growled.
"Now get up, Solo." Han scowled, but obliged. "Bag him!"
"Hey-!" Freenz's goons shoved a cloth sack over Han's head. He felt a pair of large hands grab him and push him forward. Freenz barked an order to his men to take Han and Chewbacca to their ship.
It was not a pleasant journey. Whoever was pushing Han along was not very nice-it was very clear to him that they went out of their way to make sure he'd knock into things. Han complained the first two times, but those were both met with a whack upside the head. He decided to suffer in silence.
Better he had the time to think of a plan anyway. The lack of other voices made it clear they were in an alley off the main streets of Taleucema-Freenz probably wanted to avoid any undue attention. Han tried to relax, tried not to scream.
Think of a plan. Think of a plan. Think of a kriffing plan. Think of a kriffing plan!
He tried telling himself it was alright. Those Rebels knew where he was. He had told the Princess, and she probably cared. Right? Er, right?
Han supposed Her Worshipfulness might actually be glad to be rid of him. Right now he hoped that was not the case, but to be fair…
Han nearly tripped over something. He heard the thug pushing him along laughing.
Then he heard blaster shots. The alien mercenaries roared and shouted. Louder, closer blaster shots indicated they were trying to return fire.
"Rooftops! They're upside! Aim for the damn rooftops!" Freenz screamed.
"What-what's going on?" Han asked. "Hello?"
Chewie roared.
"I don't know. How would I know? I can't see either, fuzzball! Why-why do you think I was asking?"
More blaster shots. Someone grabbed Han and threw him to the ground. "Ow."
He heard shouting, more blaster shouts, screaming, and Freenz shouting orders at his crew. It was another five minutes before it was quiet enough that Han felt like trying to grab someone's attention.
"Hello? I'm over here! Uh, hi? Hey!"
Someone grabbed him and pulled him up. Before he could offer a complaint, the bag was removed from his head.
Han looked around. Four Pantorans, three humans, a pair of Gran, and a Gotarite, all armed, stood around him and Chewie. Freenz and his men lay dead on the ground.
They were in an alleyway-his guess had been right. Han looked around. Judging by the positions of the taller skyscrapers relative to where he stood, they were closer to Taleucema's spaceport. He guessed Freenz had been taking them to his ship.
"Hello? Uh, who are you?" One of the Pantorans pointed over Han's shoulder. He turned.
"Hello Solo." Isabella said.
"Isabella." He realised that he probably had her to thank for the rescue. "...Uh, thank you."
"Heh." She smirked. "Rebel Intelligence intercepted a transmission-this, uh, Freenz feller was boastin' to one of his lieutenants about something big he was gonna pull on Saleucami. General Draven or Chief Cracken or somebody knew you two were here to meet him-pretty obvious that something the opposite of pretty was gonna, like, happen."
"Huh." Han said. "Didn't know they cared enough to send this many people."
"I was just in the system. These guys are all local toughheads workin' for-hey, who was it again?"
One of the Pantorans spoke up. "Tenloss Syndicate."
Han nodded. It was an open secret that the Tenloss Syndicate was sympathetic to the rebel cause. He offered thanks to the syndicate thugs, who nodded in response.
"Just doin' our part for the revolution." the same Pantoran said.
"This mercenary wasn't friendly with the Syndicate anyway. Shoulda paid a few thousand credits if he wanted to capture someone on our turf." barked the Gotarite. "And shouldn't been tryna capture some Rebel bigshot at all."
"Come on." one of the humans, a red-haired and pale-skinned man who looked just a bit older than Luke, said. "Let's grab a drink."
Isabella looked at Han. He shrugged. "Sure, cool. I'm down."
The cantina the Tenloss gunmen took them to was on the far side of town. It was less than an hour until sundown by the time they arrived.
The cantina was sandwiched between a decaying, three-story residential building and a shuttered shopfront, the unlit neon sign identifying it as the former site of a fast-food Kupohan noodle joint.
Inside it was an average cantina. Round tables with barstools were scattered around the main room. On long tables in an alcove on the side left to the entrance, Han could see some people playing card games. The Gotarite and two of the Pantorans headed in there as soon as the group walked in. The stage in the center of the cantina was empty, though the presence of two Ommni boxes, a difficult-to-play Bith instrument, suggested to Han that there was in fact a regular band. The cantina's main bar was on the far side of the room. An old light-skinned human man with white beard and white hair tended the bar along with a Hiitian.
Above the bar were two viewscreens. One was turned to the local weather channel. It was probably a good thing the Empire had no presence on Saleucami-the stormtrooper patrols and other security thugs would probably label even the weather as not being an approved Imperial broadcast. The other was showing a podracing event.
He looked around uneasily. Freenz's thugs had jumped him as soon as he walked into their cantina. Really, nowhere was safe it seemed. It hardly ever occurred to him that any public space, between Jabba looking to save face and Imperials looking to catch a rebel hero, wasn't safe.
The human who had suggested they come here seemed to sense his unease. "It's a safe bar."
"You sure?" Han asked.
"I'm sure." growled a new voice. Han turned around to see a Klatooinian."My job's to not let any fighting happen here."
"This is Urganz." the redhead Syndicate man said. "He's, uh, kinda the head bouncer."
"Don't cause trouble." Urganz growled.
They walked into the cantina. Most of them went up to the main bar-the remaining Pantorans split off to talk to a Snivian sitting at a table in the middle of the room, and one of the Grans walked in a door marked as the women's restroom.
"Hey, Dannison." Red-head said. "Drinks, man."
The human bartender responded. "You gonna say please Tygin?"
"Drinks, man please."
"Mm." Dannison turned to face them. "Uh, what'll it be?"
"Adumari beer." Red-head said. Both of the other Gran indicated they wanted that as well.
"Corellian brandy." Han said
"Water," Isabella said.
Chewie roared in his language that he wanted Accargm, a type of Wookiee liqueur, which the barman somehow understood.
One of the other humans ordered some ale Han had never heard of, while the other shook her head, got up, and wandered towards the gambling tables.
"So, what's your story?" Tygin had turned to face him.
Han scowled. "Chewie and me? We took a job, got too involved, and now we're stuck in the middle of this messy war."
Isabella nodded. "Same here."
The old barman delivered their drinks. "You call this a messy war? This little rebellion? Kids, I tell you, the Clone Wars were the nastiest war ever. You got it lucky compared to the war we fought."
"Lucky?" Isabella said. "I dunno if you were Republic or Separatist, but either way you spin it, it was way easier for you guys. Both sides were properly armed and supported. Do you know what it's like, stuck in the rebellion, huh? I'm one of their smugglers. The supply lines are a nightmare to maintain."
The barman retorted with something about 'hit-and-run' style fighting not being real combat, but at that point Han had stopped listening.
He had told the syndicate redhead that he'd gotten 'too involved' on a job, which was the truth.
A review of the facts:
Two smugglers, Han (Corellian Human) and Chewie (Wookiee), accepted a job from their longtime employer; the infamous Hutt gangster Jabba. It was a simple spice run, something they had done many times before. An Imperial patrol came across them, and they had to dump the cargo to avoid imprisonment.
They wound up in Mos Eisley, on Tatooine, He had needed the money to pay his debt to Jabba (he still needed that money), and was willing to take any sort of job to come up with the credits. That old man, Kenobi, showed up in the local cantina needing a pilot who'd take a job to Alderaan with no questions asked. Han needed the money (his subsequent shootout with the bounty hunter Greedo, who had come to collect Jabba's bounty, proved that), and took their offer. Because Han needed the money.
However, the planet Alderaan had been destroyed earlier that day by the Imperial superweapon known as the Death Star battlestation. This fact was only realized once the Millennium Falcon, with Kenobi, the kid, and their two droids aboard, exited hyperspace into a sea of asteroids where Alderaan should have been. At that point a tractor beam locked onto the ship and dragged them through space into a hangar bay aboard the Death Star.
Kenobi disappeared to turn off the tractor beam, while the kid dragged him and Chewie to rescue the Princess-apparently the kid had seen her in some holographic message stored in his astromech's memory banks. They stormed a prison block, rescued Her Worshipfulness, fell into that trash compactor, and, thanks to Kenobi (who, after deactivating the tractor beam went into battle against Darth Vader himself) they were able to escape the battlestation.
They fled and jumped to the rebel base in the Yavin system. As it turned out, the kid's astromech droid contained a schematic of the Death Star (Isabella swore that somehow the datadisc had been accidentally ejected from the droid while it was on Tatooine and it had been thanks to her and the engineer kid who was her [ex] boyfriend that it had reached the rebels). Han had been ready to leave once he had gotten his payment (again, let it be said that he had needed and still needed the damn money).
He and Chewie had ducked into a bar in the base, hoping to grab a drink before they left the rebels to fight their final battle. Isabella was the only other patron there. They had talked and Han had ended up going back. Thanks to him, the kid was able to shoot the exact spot on the station's surface (it was like a damned self-destruct button) to blow the whole damn Death Star up. Following the battle, he got his medal in an award ceremony. Only weeks later did he realise he probably could have gotten more money (he needed the damn money) out of that. He didn't regret that too much though.
And after that? He and Chewie never left. The missions kept piling up to-first the counterattack on Naboo, then skirmishing in the Killitarun belt, and then going to Cyrkon to rescue some rebel spy. He had tried leaving for a little while, and done odd jobs, such as defending farmers on Aduba-3, but had ended up dragged back into the whole mess. And eventually, they (him, Chewie, the kid, the Princess, and those droids, all on their own) attacked the Imperial factory world Cymoon 1. That operation gave the Empire his name and face, leaving him with an Imperial bounty on his head in addition to Jabba's. That had been a major motivator in staying with the rebels for a while.
What did he say? He had gotten "too involved"? Really, how involved was he? He didn't give a damn about the rebellion against the Empire. Sure, he didn't like the Empire, and the docking bays aboard rebel cruisers were nice and far from Jabba the Hutt's reach, providing a safe berth for his ship. The Rebel Alliance had even scored quite a few victories since the Death Star (Han would know; he had been there for a few of them), but really, it was a doomed cause. Han probably should have considered when he should head out on his own again.
Lando Calrissian, his old buddy, saw things from the angle of a gambler, and often advised Han that one could never win when playing a game against the house. And, of course, the Empire was the house.
The kid was a perfect example of who Han considered their rebellion to be full of: idealistic young people who thought they had a chance at changing things. A chance at winning the game even though the roulette tables or jubilee wheels were always rigged in the house's favor.
Not fools, he thought. At least, not the kid. Honestly, he actually liked the kid. Luke. He liked Luke. Luke was a good kid. Twice, Han had offered Luke the chance to sign on as crew aboard the Falcon, but both times Luke had said he was needed "here".
"We need you too." Luke had said the second time. "You're-you're a great pilot, and a natural leader-"
Han had shut him down fast, and dragged him to the base's bar to get a drink (this was before the Yavin 4 base had been fully evacuated, but around a month after Naboo). Deep down inside him old memories, painful memories, of a young Han Solo who was just like Luke, had begun to stir. A Han who thought he could change things. A Han who didn't realise how deceitful everyone was, and how the galaxy actually worked.
He held no regret over the past now, not really. That was just the way it was. You learned young and you learned the hard way, and that was how you wised up to how life really worked. He wasn't too much older than Luke, really. Life just did you that way early on.
And her. The Princess. No gratitude. Sometimes barely any acknowledgement. He remembered on Grange, when that old dropship released his combat speeder to fall down to the surface, because Imperial artillery meant they couldn't get close enough to land. When through some miracle he was able to safely land (er, no. His natural piloting talent was to be thanked there. It was all talent...) the Princess had stormed up and chewed him out for such a risky maneuver. That was all they ever did, the two of them. Argue. Back and forth. Han didn't really care about winning the arguments (most of the time),and certainly didn't want to one-up her specifically. It was about the principle of the thing. A man had his pride. He couldn't let himself lose too many arguments. He suspected she barely cared anyway.
What was this about? Yes-why was he still hanging around? He said they were "too involved", yes. That was the truth. But what had he meant when he said to Tygin he and Chewie were "stuck" in the war? What? What was he doing running with the rebels?
Somewhere deep inside, as he sat on that barstool on Saleucami, Han realised that he didn't have an answer because he had been subconsciously avoiding the question. Why? Because he didn't need to have an answer. Han the rebel. What he was doing-him and Chewie going on missions with the kid and her, even if the rebel crusade was doomed-it just felt right somewhere inside.
He suddenly felt uncomfortable, and decided to take his mind off of things by downing the rest of his brandy in one gulp.
When Han focused back on the world around him (or as well as he could focus after a full glass of Corellian brandy), Isabella and the barman were still debating over how nasty the Clone Wars were compared to the current war.
It turned out the barman-Dannison-was a former Republic clone trooper who had settled on Saleucami after the war.
"Damned crazy Jedi led us into battle against the Separatists." Dannison said. "Course, later it turned out they were planning their own little coup against the Chancellor. They attempted it at the end of the war, but were foiled. It fell to us to take the traitors out. When the order came down-well, I was actually in a reserve regiment stationed on Lantillies at the time. No Jedi there, just non-clone officers barking orders. But I heard about it-snap! Just like that, bye-bye Jedi."
The patrons at the bar were quiet. Han supposed this was for a number of reasons. Firstly, under the rule of the Empire the "Jedi Knights" were something rarely spoken of. Even on neutral worlds such as Saleucami, in underworld cantinas such as this (even one that catered to rebel sympathizers!) the Jedi were a topic to be avoided, best forgotten. The Emperor's purge had been so horribly successful that now even criminals and scoundrels were afraid to mention the Jedi. Han realised that meant they were all contributing, in a small way, to help wipe them from memory even further. And now? The only one brave enough to speak of the Jedi was an old man who remembered them as having gotten what they deserved.
Until he'd met Luke, Han remembered, he himself hadn't believed much in what he saw as the old myths. Beyond something he'd seen as a kid, there'd been little proof. And since the Jedi were all supposed to be dead anyway...
The second reason no one at the bar spoke was that (or at least Han hoped this was a reason) was that they were skeptical about the official narrative, and a little taken aback by Dannison's rather callous retelling of events. The Emperor and his propagandists had claimed the Jedi were all traitors who were to blame for the Clone Wars, but the Emperor and his propagandists claimed a lot of things.
Han thought of Luke, and the old man Kenobi. That day in the Mos Eisley cantina, Kenobi had pulled out a lightsaber to scare off Dr. Evazzan and his Aqualish thug. Kenobi had ended up dying so the rest of them could escape from the Death Star, after having escaped the purge for so long. He didn't seem like someone who had tried to overthrow democracy. All he did was babble about the Force.
Now Luke was always going on about learning to be a Jedi, a cause Han already considered more futile than the rebels overthrowing the Empire even without the fact that Luke was planning to use his 'Jedi powers' to defeat Vader. In this case, however, Han kept his opinions to himself.
Luke always said it was to honour his father, who was apparently a Jedi Knight. Listening to the clone trooper bartender now, Han wondered what had happened to 'Papa Skywalker'. Had he too been killed in the Emperor's Jedi Purge?
A possible third reason was that the other patrons sitting at the bar, all probable regulars at the cantina, had already heard the story Dannison was telling to Han, Chewie, and Isabella.
"The war ended less than a day later. A strike team assassinated the Separatist Council in their bunker on some hellish lava planet called Mustafar, that's what they said later, and with the entire leadership cabal-the Council, Count Dooku, and General Grievous-all dead, most of the remaining officers surrendered and the Separatist Droid Army was shut down." Dannison paused. "A lot of my brothers were worried about what would happen to us clones now that the battles were over. After all, what need is there for warriors when the war is won? But I didn't mind. I was glad the war was over, because it meant it had been worth it. Even if the Jedi Order betrayed the Republic, it had all been for something!" Dannison slammed his fist down on the counter. "All of us clones who died in the name of the Galactic Republic and peace, it" Dannison's voice cracked "it had...i-it had meant something!" His face took on a dark expression. "And then we were told the Chancellor was now the Emperor and we were no longer clone troopers of the Grand Army of the Republic, but rather the first stormtroopers of the Stormtrooper Corps of the new Galactic Empire. We built the peace, now we were keepers of the peace. That's what they said. And we all bought it."
Dannison laughed. "We bought it! I proudly served as an Imperial stormtrooper for two years, fighting against the hardliner Separatist holdouts. Two years in, it was more massacring colonies that had been Separatist aligned, or-" Dannison paused again "-or in some cases just didn't want to be part of the new Empire. It was more of that than it was taking out anarchist guerillas and reactivated battle droids in service to some former Trade Federation bureaucrat. It was brutality. There was no honor left in the service and so I quit. The Imperial Military didn't care anyway. In less than half a decade, they'd start discharging many of the clones who fought. Discharging? Sorry, I meant discarding." Dannison snorted. "Veterans' Services barely covered basic medical care for most of my brothers, or so I heard."
Isabella spoke up. "How'd you end up tending bar in Talecuma?"
"I travelled from place to place, working as a laborer. I...I was lost and trying to find myself. At first it was just wherever there were basic construction jobs. A lot of the worlds I traveled to work on were, unsurprisingly, recovering from the war. I-oh, Tygin?" The syndicate gunman was holding out his glass. "A refill. You really need to pay your tab first, kid." Tygin grinned in response. "Ah, what the hell." He refilled the glass before continuing. "I decided to travel around and visit battlefields from the war." He swallowed. "I guess I was trying to honor my brothers' sacrifice, even if the galaxy wouldn't. I traveled all over. Ended up here when I ran out of money, and it seemed as good as any a place to settle."
"Quite a story." Han said. He wasn't sure what else to say.
The barman nodded. "Indeed. You want a refill there?" Han nodded, and offered his thanks when his glass was handed back to him.
For a moment Han considered thanking Danison for his service, but was unsure how the old soldier would take it.
An hour later Han found himself over in the gambling alcove, playing a game of sabaac with five other cantina patrons. One was Tygin, who turned out to be a piss-poor card player. The second was a gregarious, purple-skinned, female member of the squat Gabdorin species who introduced herself as Iphremi. There was also a silent Morseerian. Since they said very little and whatever facial expressions they might've been making were hidden behind the mask all Morseerians wore in oxygen-rich environments, Han knew nothing about them apart from the fact that they had won the first and third hands (and a fair amount of the money he had on him). Sitting to Han's right was a blue-skinned, tail-headed Twi'lek man wearing a flight jacket. Han hadn't gotten his name. On his left was Isabella, who had won the last two hands (and most of the rest of Han's money).
A pair of Mantilorrians and the buck-toothed Gotarite from earlier were watching. Chewie was not there-Han hadn't paid attention to where he'd gone off to.
"I fold." The Twi'lek said.
Tygin laughed. "You afraid?" The Twi'lek didn't respond.
Tygin's strategy thus far had been to match each bet all the way to the end of the hand. He had lost each time, including to Han in the second round.
Iphremi turned around to look at something. "Oh, the band's finally arrived." Han looked up from the table. Four Bith, a Sullustan, and two Twi'lek women, both of them in revealing outfits, had entered the cantina and were moving towards the stage. Two of the Bith and both of the Twi'leks weren't carrying instruments, but the rest were. Han assumed those two Bith were the musicians who played the ommni boxes he had noticed earlier, while the Twi'leks were likely the dancers.
"That's later than usual." Tygin muttered. "Uh, it's your turn, Solo." he said to Han.
"Hmm?" Han was distracted by the Twi'lek dancers. "Oh, right. I call." He tossed the necessary number of credit chips into the pot. Isabella did the same.
"Solo?' The Twi'lek said. "As in Han Solo?"
"Oh, you've heard of me?" Han replied. His hand started to move towards his blaster in its holster. After Freenz, he wanted to be careful. He didn't know this guy.
"Sure. Who hasn't? You're the pilot who-you're the one whose ship made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs!" Han relaxed. His hand moved away from his blaster. Actually, he might like this guy.
Han grinned. "Yeah, that's me. My ship-the Millennium Falcon-fastest one there is. She's able to take any beating." Isabella coughed.
"I fold." The Morseerian said.
"How'd you find such a short route?" Tygin asked. "None of the spacers I know have ever gotten below eighteen."
"Just a mix of piloting talent and a superior navigation computer."
"I see the bet and raise it ten credits." Iphremi said. "A twelve parsec-long route, huh? That's impressive!"
"Anyone could!" Isabella said suddenly. She was clutching her drink so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. It was a wonder the drinking glass hadn't shattered. "Anyone could do it!"
Han shrugged. "Sure." he said, smirking. "Then Chewie and I would just take the Falcon and break the record all over again."
"Why you smug-"
"Hey!" Iphremi interrupted. "I raise it ten credits." Han and Isabella each deposited the amount in the pot. That was the end of the round. Han had the best hand, and the pot went to him.
"I'm just saying." Isabella continued. "There are other qualified smugglers with fast ships."
"Oh, like Platt Okeefe?" Iphremi said. "Or Dash Rendar?"
"Like me!" Isabella said.
"In your dreams, kid." Han retorted.
The Twi'lek squinted. "Aren't you a little young to be a smuggler?"
"I'm seventeen!" Isabella said indignantly. "And what if I am?" She took out her blaster and placed it flat on the table, but kept her finger on the trigger and the weapon pointed in the general direction of the offending Twi'lek. Tygin and Imprehmi's eyes widened, but the Twi'lek calmly held up his hands. The Morseerian didn't even move-for all Han knew, he or she was dead. Han himself only raised an eyebrow-he was fairly certain Isabella wouldn't do anything. He'd never known her to be that violent.
Well, he'd never seen her do anything like that. He'd heard things from fellow spacers in the dark corners of cantinas or in secluded docking bays while a deal was being worked out. That could all be chalked up to exaggeration though...
"I meant nothing by it." the Twi'lek said.
"You, uh, better put that away." Tygin said nervously. "Urganz...well his job is to keep things calm." They all looked over to where the Klatoonian was-he and another bouncer were breaking up a fight between two rowdy groups of Weequays, in the process causing more trouble than there had been before they intervened.
"Aren't I a little young to get beaten up by the cantina bouncer?" she asked mockingly.
Tygin shrugged. "Er, maybe. But…" They all looked back at Urganz. The head bouncer had successfully quieted both groups of Weequays by grabbing one of their number and holding the unfortunate troublemaker aloft by means of his neck. "I don't think that'd really bother him."
Isabella scowled, but put her gun away. The band launched into a song right around then. The Morseerian silently collected her (or his) winnings and walked to a table closer to the central stage.
"Anyone else feel like continuing the game?" Iphremi asked. The Twi'lek man looked to Han and Isabella for guidance. She shrugged, and he shook his head.
It was better for him to quit while he was ahead, which in this case meant tied with Isabella.
"Come on, I'll buy you all drinks." Iphremi said. "Even after you lot robbed me in what should have been a friendly game, I think I have enough to cover all five of us." She stood up and the rest of them followed suit.
Han just got a soft drink at the bar-he had already had two glasses of Corellian brandy, which was probably more than enough. The beverage was gaggingly sweet, but oddly bitter at the same time.
"Euggh. What is this?"
"It's a fruit soda." Dannison said. "Can't remember the flavor though."
Tygin snorted. "He's lying. I remember when he started this little scheme. It's meliroon fruit-flavoured syrup poorly mixed in with tonic water." Han made a face and set the drink down on the counter.
"Hey, it's cheaper to buy." Dannison said. "I buy the syrup and the tonic water in bulk, for cheap. Costs much less than buying cases of soda over and over again individually. Much better for the cantina's budget."
"It's shit and we should just spend the money on actual soda." the Hiitian bartender said as she passed by.
"Maybe I should," Dannison shot back. "And then I'll dock your wages to cover the cost." The Hiitan was too busy serving drinks to reply, and the old clone trooper snorted.
"Could I get a koja-rum?" Han asked. Might as well get something that would taste good. As long as he drank it slowly, he wouldn't get too drunk. Dannison nodded and prepared the drink.
"Hey Iphremi," Han turned to ask the Gabdorin. "You willing to pay for-"
"No."
"Right." He fished around in his pocket for the necessary amount of credits, and handed them over to Dannison in exchange for his drink.
As the band finished their latest song, Han noticed Tygin was still staring right in their direction. He turned back to Dannison.
"What's with him?"
The bartender chuckled. "Boy fancies one of the dancers."
"Ah."
"We've all been there." Dannison said, dropping his voice to the whisper gentlemen used when discussing such matters. "Romancin' a Twi'lek dancer girl."
"Heh. You ever been with a Zeltron woman?" Han replied.
"Ah, can't say that I have."
"Ooh, you're missing out." Han said. "It's a very, uh, passionate culture. Really quite an experience." Han turned to Tygin. "You gonna go up there? Looks like the band's on break."
Tygin's face reddened. "Eh-ah...er, well, I-I shouldn't go a-and bother her…" His voice trailed off.
"It's been like this for a month." Dannison said. "I'm this close to just firing the band to put a stop to it. I can't stand it anymore." Han laughed. Tygin's face reddened even more. "In a fight, this kid-who, mind you, is a highly paid gunman for a notable crime syndicate-is unstoppable, but with a woman…"
The five of them left the bar. Instead of returning to their old table in the gambling room (it had been taken by a new group of sabaac players) they took a larger booth. The Gotarite joined them, and then after a minute Chewbacca did as well.
"Where the hell were you?" Han asked him. Chewie responded in the Wookiee language that he had gone and purchased fuel for their ship. "Huh. Thanks."
The band started playing again. Tygin was staring in their direction-at the dancer, obviously-but looked down when he noticed Han was watching him.
"Go to her." Han said. "It's painful to watch you sit here and do nothing."
"It's bumming me out." the Twi'lek man said.
"Uh..well…"
"Come on. You're not ugly or anything. Pretty average actually. You have enough of a shot." Han said.
Tygin looked up. "...Average? Mom always said I looked handsome…"
At that, the whole booth burst into laughter. Tygin looked ever more mortified by the second. His Gotarite comrade from the Tenloss Syndicate slapped him on the back good-naturedly; the force of the blow made him cough up his drink.
The conversation moved away from making fun of the kid and eventually turned to the war.
"Good work is gettin' hard to come by." Iphremi said. "The war's getting serious now, so it seems, so every major employer's been hedging their bets, not hiring for anything risky. And of course, only risky jobs pay well." She looked at the Gotarite. "Please do tell your bosses I'm grateful for the jobs the Syndicate has though. Ororo Transportation and the other front companies pay nicely."
Like most criminal enterprises, the Tenloss Syndicate used legitimate companies to disguise its transactions. Han believed he had heard somewhere that their front companies-among them Ororo Transportation, as well as the collections agency Relekin Confidential and countless other businesses-actually brought in legitimate cash for the Syndicate bosses as well.
"I'm just the humble captain of a hitman squad." the Gotarite muttered. "But I'll be sure to pass the message along to the Leukish council if any of them care about what their Saleucami street brawlers are up to." The Leukish was the Syndicate's committee of bosses. "You there, Cap'n Solo. You're fighting in the war. What's that like?"
"Nasty. Not really any pay." And the Princess nags at you about moral nonsense and good manners and the like all the time, not that Han said that part out loud.
"Got any interesting stories?"
Han thought for a moment, then looked at Isabella. "The dismantling station mission?"
She shrugged. "Seems as good as any."
So Han told them of the mission, of the arrest of Commodore Brittho (he and Isabella spent a minute trying to recall her name and rank), of Luke's capture by Boba Fett, and their raid on Darth Vader's flagship.
"-and so the rocket launches right at Vader, and right before it begins to explode-"
"Almost before it hit him!" Isabella cut in.
"Yeah, right, so it's about to explode, about to hit him, and he uses his dark power or whatever to stop it right in midair. It must've taken all his concentration or something 'cause we used that opportunity to board our stolen cruiser." At this part, Han flashed a smile. "I was the pilot."
"No, I was the pilot." Isabella interrupted. "It was my skill which saved us."
Han waved a hand. "Ah, it was a month ago. Who can really remember such details?" Now that he was beginning to think about it, he remembered it was neither of them who had piloted their ship.
Isabella gave him a confused look. "A month?"
"What?"
"It's been four."
Han frowned. "Huh. Anyway, that's just one of the little adventures we've been on."
The whole table stared at them before bursting into laughter. Even Tygin was laughing. Hell, even Chewie was laughing-that hurt Han a little.
"What?" Isabella asked. It was almost unnoticeable, but Han could tell there was a definite edge to her voice.
"Oh, you're serious." The Twi'lek said flatly. Tygin and his Gotarite comrade both laughed a little harder at that.
"It's just…" the redhead human said.
"...absurd!" the Gotarite finished.
Han scowled."It's true. All of it." He turned to Chewbacca. "They don't believe me!" Chewie laughed.
A Pantoran ran up to speak to Tygin and the Gotarite, talking fast in a hushed tone. Han recognized her as one of the other members of the team that had saved him and Chewie from Freenz. The two syndicate members stood up quickly.
"Sorry to leave." Tygin said. "Job came in." All three of them rushed out of the cantina.
Han didn't have the energy to defend his true story and they had run out of things to talk about, so the booth was silent for a while after that.
Another hour passed, and Han, Isabella, and Chewbacca found themselves at the bar again. The band was playing something sad and slow, and the cantina's crowd had thinned out a little. The left viewscreen, the one that had earlier been showing a podrace, was now playing a forty-year old Pantoran film Han had seen a few times before. One of Pantora's classics, or so he was told, the film was called The Patient, and was about a Pantoran in an insane asylum who was convinced she was sane and trapped there for nefarious reasons. Han knew the basic plot-one of the other patients held the same belief, the therapist alternated between seeming sinister and acting like he genuinely cared about his patients.
Han wasn't paying attention though-he was doing some thinking.
Really, what was he waiting for? Why was he still with the Rebellion? It wasn't for money, hell no. Unless he could find a way to break into the illegal gunrunning "industry" and start supplying them with quality weaponry, there wasn't any money to be made with the rebels.
And it wasn't really for ideals. He didn't like the Empire, but against their whole military (not to mention the terrifying figure that was Darth Vader), what chance did a few rebel X-wing starfighters launched from outdated spacecruisers stand? Sticking around with the Rebel Alliance was a surefire way to get both himself and Chewie killed.
Han wondered why they let him stick around. Sure, he was a good pilot with a fast ship. He helped blow up the Death Star, eliminate the Imperial presence on Naboo, destroy the factories on Cymoon 1, and won countless other battles for the Alliance. But really, did they want him?
He had made it clear to the Princess on multiple occasions that he didn't give a bantha's ass about "the cause". He had to wonder why she tolerated having him around. Would she miss him if he left?
Han knew Luke would. His stomach turned at the thought of leaving the kid. A small part of Han wanted to save Luke from the doomed rebel crusade he'd signed up for, but it was Luke's choice. If the kid wanted to do that rather than signing on as crew for the Millenium Falcon, then that was his choice, even if Han didn't like it.
And did Luke want him there? He said he did, sure. But what if he didn't? That slight possibility unnerved Han more than he liked.
Assume everyone will betray you and you will never be disappointed. Beckett's advice came back to Han.
The only person Han trusted was Chewie. That was it. Beyond that, why would he trust anyone else? How could he trust anyone else?
"There's fighting out on the galactic rim." Isabella said suddenly. "I've been asked to ferry supplies to some backwater planet called Xof, out in the Bitrose sector. You ever heard of that world?" Han shook his head. To tell the truth, he couldn't remember if he'd even heard of the Bitrose sector before, though that might've just been the alcohol dimming his memory a little. "Until a day ago, me neither. Apparently, the locals are in the middle of a civil war. I'm told a bunch of factions united to rebel against the Imperial-backed planetary government, and the Alliance has sent military support to counter the Imperial forces that arrived to crush the uprising. It'd be nice if you would come and help too. I hate to admit it, but you're one of the best at evading Imperial cruisers. If you'd fill up your hold with weapons and medical supplies, then-"
"No." Han interrupted.
Isabella snorted. "What, Han Solo thinks he's too good for a simple supply run? You want another death-defying mission crucial to the war?"
"No." Han said firmly. "I'm leaving the rebellion." There was a pause before either Isabella or Chewbacca replied.
"What?" she said. Chewie roared something similar in his language, although he was much less surprised. Han had told Chewie he was thinking about leaving a few times in recent weeks, and even if he hadn't talked about it, Chewie knew him well enough to recognize that this would've happened eventually. "Y-you're leaving?"
"Yeah. My mind's made up."
"But-"
"I have a huge debt to Jabba!" Han said, a little more sharply than he intended. Dannison, who was talking with a Weequay sitting about four seats down the bar, looked over at them. "And fighting under a rebel flag ain't gonna get it paid."
"But the war…" she said.
Han jerked his head in the direction of Dannison, who had turned his attention back to the Weequay. "Yeah, the war. Old Dannison fought in the last big war. See how it turned out for him?" Isabella was quiet. Han waited a bit before continuing. "Look, you need to start thinking about leaving yourself, okay? I thought your boyfriend left you. Wasn't he the real reason you joined up after Yavin?" Isabella's face reddened. "Yeah, thought so. So why stick around? I thought you were smarter than them. That you were one of us, a proud outlaw. " Han snorted. "That you might even make good on your boast that you could do a shorter Kessel Run. Maybe I was wrong." For a moment Isabella looked as if she'd been slapped, but that expression was quickly replaced by a scowl.
"Fine then." She said. "Be that way." She didn't look up, but just stared at her drink-the same fruit syrup/tonic water mixture Han had ordered earlier. She had purchased it, tried it, found it disgusting, and decided to write it off as a loss. Han turned to Chewie.
"Anything you'd like to add?" he asked. The Wookiee hesitated, but replied no. "Right." He stood up to leave, and Chewie reluctantly got up to follow him. "See you around Isabella."
She didn't reply.