|
A Shuffle of the Deck by Deb Durkee art by Liz PART 4 "Official RAF Mon Remondawelcoming committee, here to say it's about damn time you got back." Wedge threw Han a stiff salute and a wide grin as the small group made their way down the Falcon'sramp. They were getting looks from everyone gathered in the Mon Cal Cruiser's main bay; mechanics, pilots and droids alike turned to look. Han was supported on either side by Lando and Leia. He looked pale, a little unsteady--in other words, the worst Wedge had ever seen him look. His salute faltered, but Han didn't. "Wedge!" He disengaged from Leia's and Lando's grip, making it to the bottom of the ramp before either of them did. He embraced the younger Corellian pilot, slamming him on the back as he did. He had always liked the kid, and he couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather have greet him here. Han leaned past Wedge, keeping one arm companionably around his shoulders, to grasp Wes Janson's hand. "It's been boring without you, Solo," Janson told him with a grin. "Trust me," Han replied. "It was even worse where I was." "There are a lot of people around here who never thought you'd make it back to us," Wedge said seriously. He couldn't help but notice that Han was leaning on him, his arm, first slung over his shoulders in a companionable embrace, now seemed to be hanging on to him for support. Wedge snaked an arm across his back to help steady him. "For a while there, I didn't think I would either," Han admitted. Anything further he might have wanted to say was interrupted by the insistent buzzing of Wedge's comlink. With an apologetic glance he pulled it out and thumbed it on. Ackbar's voice issued from the tiny speaker. "Commander Antilles, has the Millennium Falconcompleted its docking?" "Yes, Admiral," Wedge replied. "Inform Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker that they are to report to the bridge immediately." Wedge didn't have the chance to tell Ackbar that Luke wasn't with the group before the connection was broken from the Mon Calamari's end. "Where is Luke, anyway?" Janson asked. Leia shrugged. "He said he had something to take care of before he joined us. He should be returning within the next few days, that's all I know." Chewie growled his opinion, and Han nodded. "Right. He gets a vacation, and the rest of us are stuck here." Leia crossed her arms in front of her chest, raising her eyebrows as she looked across at him. " Oh, you'll get your vacation. Med center, Han." Han sat in a bed in the med center, propped up against a handful of pillows. He was tired, more from the various tests the medics had run than from anything else. Leia knew he was tired; she could tell not only in the dark circles under his eyes and his pale skin, but from the way he looked at his visitors--as if he were seeing them from light years away. She was sitting on the edge of his bed, her legs folded beneath her. "So, what's the verdict?" Wedge asked, dropping into the room's only chair. "I'll live. I think. I heard the words neurological damageand blackouts,but I heard repairableafter it all. So, putting them together in a way I like, I'll be fine," Han explained. Leia squeezed his hand as he said it. She had been afraid of what they would tell him. She hadn't said anything to him, but she didn't need to. She had hovered over him all the way to the fleet, and he had joked that he would have liked it more had he not been unconscious most of the time. Not surprisingly, it was she who broke the silence that followed, and with a question that Han, Lando, and Chewie had all been considering. "What's going on here? There's something going on, something nobody wants to tell us." "You're right about that much," Wedge replied. "No one's saying anything too loudly." "At least not to us lowly fighter pilots," Janson added. "I guess not that much has changed," Han said. "But, us lowly pilots have one definite advantage. Word gets around fast." "What is the word?" Lando had been quiet until then. "Death Star," Wedge said grimly. Leia felt the group's eyes focus on her, and she inhaled sharply, sitting up a bit straighter. She reached out to take Han's hand again, and Wedge looked as if he regretted saying the words. "Wouldn't you think they'd have learned the first time?" Han said, his voice strained. "Apparently not. Page's Intelligence team is the one being credited with finding it; he's the one who told me. One of his code-slicers intercepted an Imp transmission on its way to Coruscant. It was all layers, hard to crack from what he tells me. When she finally got into it, she found out it was a construction schedule for a new Death Star. It's only about three-fourths completed, which is good. About the only good news, I could gather. It's heavily guarded, and protected by a planet-based shield generator and who knows how many garrisons of stormtroopers, squadrons of TIEs, and capital ships. The generator is inside a bunker, built on one of Endor's moons. It's all forest, with no apparent sentient life; not on that moon, any of the others, or on the planet itself." "So it's perfect for them," Han said bitterly. He scowled down at the blanket that was half covering him, watching Leia out of the corner of his eye. She tried to rearrange her features into something resembling composure. His hand had tightened over hers, and she realized suddenly that she was trembling. She kept thinking, over and over: Enough power to destroy an entire planet. Wedge nodded. "I know. That's what this is all about." "Maybe they forgot that we beat them once at this game, and we can do it again," Han said. "It won't be as easy, this time," Leia spoke up. She disengaged her hand from Han's, getting to her feet. "They know what the weakness was that allowed us to destroy the first one, and they'll be sure not to make the same mistake twice. This shield generator is proof enough of this." "According to Page, General Madine is setting up a strike team to go in and destroy the generator. They'll be sent out a day and a half in front of the fleet. If they don't succeed...we don't have a chance." As his other visitors departed, Han suddenly wished that they hadn't been so quick to leave. Leia was pale, distracted, and he knew exactly why. "We're not going to let the same thing happen again," Han told her softly. He almost reached out to her, but he knew she wouldn't take his hand. Not this time. "It wasn't supposed to happen the first time," Leia said, a bitter edge to her voice, one that he hadn't heard in a long time. "No one was supposed to die because of the Death Star. I had the plans, I was on my way home with them...and I failed. And because I did, Alderaan paid the price." "Leia, you--" Han began. Leia turned on him, her eyes flashing anger. "Don't tell me I did everything I could. There's always something else, something more. But I let them down. My family, my friends--they're dead because of me. And now, the Empire is going to do it all over again." Han watched her in silence, knowing there was nothing he could say that he hadn't said already. It had been him who had comforted her years ago, when the pain was still fresh. Luke had been mobbed by a group of congratulatory rebels, and he and Leia had managed to fade into the woodwork. It had been Luke who struck the fatal blow, after all; he had only been there to help. That night, with the sounds of the celebration still drifting up from below, Leia had met him on the roof of the Massassi Temple. She had known where to find him--how, he still didn't know. She had approached him with two tall, chipped blue glasses, a bottle of Alderaanian wine, and a need to talk to someone. He hadn't known how much help he had been until nearly three years later, when they had found themselves running from that same Empire. She had been on the verge of throwing everything into one last suicide mission, willing to do anything to avenge the deaths that she had felt she caused. It had been Han who convinced her to fight another way. She turned her back to him, crossing her arms over her chest. "I know it happened four years ago, but sometimes it feels like it was yesterday. I still see them. Sometimes I still hear my father speaking to me." Han threw back the covers, dropping to the floor and padding over to her. "What does he tell you?" he asked her softly as he wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her to him. Her hands crept to his arms, resting the side of her face against his chest. "He tells me that it's not my fault. That they knew no pain." "And don't you think that you should believe him?" "They wouldn't have chosen Alderaan if it wasn't for me. The only reason they chose it was that they wanted the plans to the Death Star. If I had told them what they wanted to know, they never would have made an example of them. I caused the deaths of a thousand innocents, and that's something I have to live with for the rest of my life. There's nothing that can take away the guilt of something like that. There are some wounds that time can't heal. No amount of atonement can fix it, either. Han--the rebellion stands for protecting those who can't protect themselves against the Empire. And I couldn't even save my own family." "Then protect those who can't protect themselves," Han breathed against the softness of her hair. "I seem to remember someone telling me a long time ago that's what matters. I remember a certain young princess telling me that it's not about us, it never was. It's about those who can't be here to fight with us. Actually, I'm fairly sure that she yelled it at me, then called me an arrogant son of a bantha, and stalked out on me." "That hasn't changed, I know. But, Han, it's still--" "I know, sweetheart. I know." Even as he said it he knew that it was as close to lying to her as he was ever going to get. It wasn't just because he hadn't lost his home planet, but also because he had never had a family to lose. He couldn't relate to her loss, not really. He hugged Leia tighter to him. It had taken a near-death experience for him to realize just how much she meant to him, and it wasn't something he was going to take for granted again. "We're not going to let it happen again. We're stronger than we ever were. Just the fact they would consider building a second Death Star shows that the Empire's running out of ideas. It's something that almost worked last time, and they think that this time they might get it right. But we've had three years to pick away at them. And we have--we started at the widest part, at the bases of all their operations. We've taken away the best people they've got, requisitioned or blown up some of their biggest suppliers. All the while we've gotten stronger. Based on what I've seen here, that hasn't stopped happening in the year I was gone. They can't stand up to us, Leia. And they know that." She was trembling. Maybe if he had been here this whole time, maybe there would have been something he could have done to stop this before it got this far. But he couldn't know, he never would. Perhaps it was better that way. But what you didn't know could hurt you. He closed his eyes against the thoughts. They went, but reluctantly. "Do it for your family, sweetheart." She turned in his arms. When she looked up at him he saw tears welling in her eyes. "You are my family. You have been for a long time. We were just too stubborn to realize it." She buried her face against his chest, her words were muffled. "Help me, Han. I...I can't do this alone." "You don't have to," he told her. "I'm not going anywhere." General Madine's office was two levels above the med center, on the same level as the bridge. Han found the discreetly marked door quickly, and rapped once on the entrance panel. "Who is it?" Madine's voice came over the small speaker. "Han Solo...sir." Han didn't add the honorific necessarily out of respect, but only because it sounded as if he should say something more. "Come in." Madine was sitting at his desk, datapads stacked on the clean metal surface before him, a comm monitor open and active as well. He got to his feet as Han entered the room, keying a button on the desktop that slid the door shut behind him. As Han approached, Madine extended both a hand and a grin. "Just goes to show, never bet against a Corellian," Madine said, grasping Han's hand. Han grinned; even considering the topic he had come here to discuss, it was impossible not to. "You've got that right," Han replied. Madine gestured to a chair. "Have a seat, Solo. Can I get you a drink?" "No, thanks. Medics' orders, so I guess I'd better listen to them." Madine grinned. "Since when do you always do what the medics tell you?" "It's not the medics I'm worried about. Leia knows everything--you can't hide anything from her. If I tried..." "There'd be hell to pay. I know the feeling, my wife's the same way. So how are you doing?" Madine asked, with genuine interest. Han shrugged. "The first few days were rough, but it's getting better." Madine nodded. "Why do I get the feeling that you're not here just to say hello?" He leaned forward on his desk, folding his hands over the datapad he had been working on. "I want to volunteer for a mission," Han said. Madine didn't bother to try to cover his surprise. "You've just gotten back after a year's absence. I can pull up the medical files and tell you just what kind of toll this has taken on you physically. And I'd bet that somewhere in there is a request for a psych evaluation as well. Denied, probably, and I'd make another bet that the signature that denied it is Princess Leia's. Han...I don't doubt your competence in these things. You know that. No one here does. But don't you think you should take a little time, get back to health, rest?" Han shook his head. "I can't do that. I've lost a lot of time already, and I can't afford to lose any more." "No doubt you've heard from the princess about the state of the war. The Alliance is fortunate to have you back--if you're staying, that is, and I don't think you'd be here now if you weren't. But the medics say you're in no condition to fight." "I want to lead the strike team to Endor, to take out the Death Star's shield generator." Madine leaned back in his chair. "You know." "Yeah, so much for confidentiality." "Who told you?" Han shrugged. "Nobody. During my prolonged absence, I went through training and became a Jedi." "Sithspit," Madine grumbled. "I'm not going to ask again, because I know you're not going to tell me. And I'm not going to try to convince you that this is a bad idea. But I will ask you this: why?" Han didn't even have to think about it. "Because I saw the look on Leia's face when she found out." He leaned forward, unconsciously. "And because it was the Empire who put me in that living hell, and I want a shot at them." "At Vader," Madine added thoughtfully. Han nodded, not sure if Madine noticed or not. He was engrossed in whatever was on a datapad in front of him. "This report says you suffered from minor neurological damages," Madine began. Han tried to speak, but the general silenced him with a wave of his hand. "This damage is not necessarily something that can be repaired, but it is something that can be overcome with time. In addition to that, they report chemical deficiencies, muscle spasms, and blurred vision, along with periods of blackouts. Does this qualify you to lead a mission vital to the survival of the rebellion?" Han looked at him moodily, with the sullen realization that he should have lied to the medics about all those things. But, he amended, with Leia watching him it never would have worked anyway. "What if I can prove I'm fine?" "Aren't you supposed to be in the med center now?" Madine asked. Han's sulking silence was answer enough. "I could have you listed as a danger to yourself, Han. I don't want to have to do that, but I don't want to see you doing something stupid." "If I'm out of line, General, I'm sorry. But I can't let you do that. I don't care if I am a danger to myself--I'm going." "If you do something to get yourself killed, or to ruin this mission--" Madine began, but Han was already on his feet. "General?" he asked. "Yes?" "Hey, it's me." He didn't stay long enough to see Madine's disapproving look. He turned his back on the general and was out the door, even as Madine shook his head in reluctant exasperation. "I know, Solo. I know." Leia entered Han's room in the med center, not entirely surprised to find the bed empty. The blankets had been thrown back, rumpled at the foot, and the pillow was on the floor. She picked it up absently, setting it back in its place. She could hear water running in the small head off the far side of the room; the med-issue clothes he had been wearing when she saw him last were lying in a pile on the floor. She picked those up as well, not even realizing she was doing it. She had tried to tell herself that she was not worried about him, that he was feeling better if he was up and wandering around the cruiser. But she couldn't help it; she supposed it had become almost second nature to worry about him. "I thought I heard someone out here." She turned at Han's voice. He had just gotten out of the shower, for his skin was still slightly red from the hot water. His hair was wet, hurriedly toweled dry and plastered to his forehead. He was wearing a clean pair of pants, wet, as if he had hurriedly pulled them on before drying off. A towel was draped over his shoulder. He grinned as he crossed the room to sit on the bed near where she was standing and she found herself not knowing exactly what to say. She recovered quickly enough, though, even as he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her down to sit beside him. "Where have you been?" she asked, bracing a hand against his shoulder as he started to pull her closer. He looked at her, puzzled, not answering. She shook her head. "The medics told me you were gone." Han shrugged before answering. "I couldn't lay here any longer. I wanted to get up, wander around a bit, see who I ran into. Leia..." he trailed off, lightly gripping her upper arms. "I've been out of it for too long. I don't want to be out of it any longer." She looked up into his face, into his eyes. It made her heart ache just to look at him, to witness the sad, distant expression in his eyes. Suddenly he looked so much older; the time that he had spent in carbonite seemed to have aged him a decade. "Han, is there something wrong?" "No," he replied, shaking his head. "Why?" "You've got that look," she said suspiciously. There was something different about him. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but she couldn't quite decide what it was. The lopsided grin was there, but there was something new in his eyes. "The medics said I could leave today," he told her. "They decided it was safe to release me back into the general population." "Han!" She slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him, lightly kissing the corner of his mouth as she pulled away. "They gave you a clean bill of health, then?" He shrugged. "Not completely, but there's nothing more for them to do here. The rest is just a matter of time. I've already gotten my sight and my balance back, and that's all that really matters," he finished with a grin. "I'm surprised you're still here." "Thought I'd get in one more hot shower before I headed back to the Falcon." "Oh." Leia paused. He couldn't be thinking of leaving, not after... "They're short on bunks," he said, as if he had seen her thoughts written clearly on her face. "I volunteered to stay in the Falconwith Chewie. Thought I might save them some room. Besides, I want to see how much damage he and Lando did to her." She nearly asked him to stay with her. The words were there; it was just a matter of getting them to form, which they stubbornly refused to do. She wasn't sure why she was unable to say them; it certainly wasn't because of some silly reservation about having him staying in the small apartment-style bunk that had been given to her upon their return to the ship. And it wasn't a fear over how far their relationship would go if he were to stay. He reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm going to see this thing through with you, sweetheart. You know that. I told you that I wasn't going to let you go through this alone. And I always keep my word. No matter what." "Three years ago you were in it for the money. You didn't do anything without asking how much you were going to get paid for it. Now, you're telling me you're willing to die for the rebellion." Han shook his head again. One hand slid down her neck, his fingers trailing lightly down her throat. He traced her collarbone through her shirt, feeling her shiver as he did. "No. Not for the rebellion. For you. It's always been for you. Leia...I didn't get a chance to say it before, but...I love you. I've always loved you--I've just been either too stupid or too stubborn to realize it. Until now. Until it was almost too late." This time it was Leia's turn to shake her head, even as she slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. "No, it's not too late," she whispered, then kissed him. |