Star wars, p.9
Star Wars, page 9
Chewie grumbled in confusion, and Han explained Mon’s offer. He nodded, roaring this time in approval of the gift.
“Look, I want you to use this time to go home; you deserve it and your family needs you,” Han said. “But if you get a chance, maybe we could add some, I don’t know, upgrades to the Falcon?”
Chewie made a confused sound.
“Something for Leia,” Han said. “I don’t know! It’s just been us on the ship for so long—she’d like something of hers, you know? Maybe we could get a proper kitchen, change the bunk room…”
Chewie chortled, the sound mocking. “I don’t know, okay? I just want her to feel at home.”
With another laugh, Chewie clapped Han on the back, the movement hard enough to make Han stumble forward. “Hey!” Han protested, but Chewie waved him off, already striding away to prep the Millennium Falcon for flight.
Now to tell Leia.
There were at least two dozen people between himself and Leia, but Han cut straight across the heart of the room. Someone else was already approaching her, but Han didn’t say a word, didn’t try to be polite—he just slipped his hands into Leia’s and swirled her away.
“I promised him!” Leia said, waving at the man she’d abandoned, even though the Togruta was smiling good-naturedly. No one would begrudge Han claiming his bride tonight.
“Groom’s prerogative,” Han said. “You don’t mind.” It was partly a question, but mostly a statement, because he could see the answer on Leia’s face—relief.
“I suppose they’ll forgive me.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Han asked.
Leia sank into his arms as they twirled around the room, not realizing that Han was leading her along the outer edge of the dance floor. They swept past the flower-fliers, fluttering on the amber orb. They laughed at Lando, who now had three partners and an entire section of the floor to himself. Leia waved at Luke, who was talking to C-3PO. They caught the tail end of the conversation.
“I was telling Artoo that I was right all along; it is pretty here,” the droid said as R2-D2 beeped, bouncing. Luke grinned, clearly only half listening. He nodded at Han as if he understood and approved of the other man’s intent.
“What do you say we get out of here?” Han whispered in Leia’s ear. Before she could answer, he did a quick sidestep toward the door, spinning her around until they were on the landing outside the temple.
The cool night air hit them, and Leia started to pull away, then gratefully closed the distance and allowed Han’s arms to wrap around her, warming her. “We can’t just leave.”
“It’s our wedding,” Han said, “we can do what we want.”
“What if I want to go back inside and dance another round with everyone?”
There was a playful glint in Leia’s eyes, but Han could tell she wanted nothing less. “What if you save your energy for tonight?” he asked, his voice deep.
Leia smacked him playfully, but he knew he’d said the right thing. “Come on,” he said, pulling her toward the ladder. They still had to cross through the village, get to the Falcon, and take off before someone else tried to claim their time. “This is our night,” he told her.
Leia’s eyes reflected starlight. This high up, they could see past the treetops, into forever. He couldn’t help himself; he reached out, brushing his thumb over a loose strand of Leia’s brown hair that clung to her cheek. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes, the movement sweet and full of trust and love. Han let out a shaky breath.
“Hey,” Leia said, her eyelids fluttering open. “Don’t get all mushy on me.”
Whatever quip that usually fell so easily off his tongue died. Han didn’t have words for the depth of emotion he felt for Leia in this moment, with music spilling out of the temple, the magic of the moon wafting around them, and her big eyes full of love staring up at him. Han always had something to shoot back. But not now.
So he kissed her. And he hoped it was enough for her to know everything he wanted to say but couldn’t.
CHAPTER 12
LEIA
“WAIT, WHERE ARE WE GOING?” Leia asked as Han led her around the edge of the village, toward where the ships were docked in a clearing.
“Mon—” Han started.
Leia groaned. She had said she would think about a honeymoon. Not that she wanted to leave on one tonight.
Han paused. Behind him, Leia could see Chewie carrying crates to load into the Millennium Falcon—one of which was her travel trunk.
“Do you not want to go on a cruise?” Han asked. “Because say the word, and we can take the Falcon anywhere we want to go. I was kind of iffy on the whole fancy shindig in the first place.”
“It’s not that, it’s just—”
Han cocked his head. “Or is it that you don’t want to go on a honeymoon?”
Leia flinched.
“Work can wait,” Han said flatly.
“Can it?” Leia asked, hating the pleading tone in her voice. “The Empire doesn’t care that we got married; they’ll strike as soon as they can.”
“You’re not fighting this war by yourself,” Han growled.
“I know!”
“You sure about that?”
Leia closed her eyes. She knew she had to be able to take moments to pause, to celebrate, to trust others to pick up the load when it became too heavy to carry. When had that become so difficult?
“Were you thinking you’d just—what?” Han said, caught between frustration and confusion. “Get married and then go back to normal? Like nothing happened?”
Leia shot him a rueful look.
Han reached for her hand, the movement so sudden that Leia didn’t have time to react. He wove his fingers through hers then twisted their twined wrists so that their amber rings shone in the pale light from the Falcon’s open hatch. “This changes things,” he said. “I don’t know what you expected, but if you want this to mean something, it has to change things.”
Emotion swelled in Leia’s throat. “Of course,” she said. “Of course. It changes everything.” It had all happened so fast—the proposal, the acceptance, the wedding. She had not truly stopped to think about…anything. About what happened next. Everything had felt like an ending, like borrowed time, ever since the Death Star exploded. The symbolic fall of the Empire, the death of the Emperor—that had been the end goal for so long that when it had happened, it felt like the end. Like everything else was a happily ever after.
She may be a princess, but not one from a story. Because when a princess from a story reached her happily ever after, that was when the story ended.
But Leia realized this story, her story—it wasn’t ending. It was beginning.
If only she had the courage to write it.
“I can’t believe we haven’t even been married for five full hours, and we’re already having our first fight,” Han grumbled, raking his fingers through his hair.
Leia laughed. “Oh, I can believe that. But we’re not having a fight.”
“Great. Now we’re gonna fight about whether or not we’re having a fight.”
“I don’t know about you,” Leia said, flashing him a smile, “but I’m going on my honeymoon. If you want to stay here and bicker, that’s fine. I can take Chewie instead.”
Han sputtered then recovered quickly, racing to keep up with her. “Wait a minute, your worship!” he called, catching up.
“Your worship?” Leia shot him a look. “Your wife.”
Han’s frustration evaporated. “Wife,” he said, agreeing. The smile that spread across his face was infectious.
Together, they bounded up the boarding ramp, then headed to the cockpit. Chewie was already there, and from the low chuckle in his voice when he answered Han about being ready to go, Leia could guess that he knew they’d already been verbally sparring.
“All right, all right,” Han grumbled. “Let’s get off this moon. I’ve had about all I can handle of climbing rope ladders.” He twisted in his seat to meet Leia’s eyes. “Smooth sailing, from here on out.”
Chewie roared, punching the flight gear. The Millennium Falcon hummed with life, the initial thrusters booting on. Leia’s heart surged—they were doing it. She was running off in the dead of night with her new husband to go on a whirlwind trip and extend this liminal moment of joy for as long as possible. Her breath caught.
…and then the engine died. The ship sputtered, and the power core flashed.
“What now?” Han groaned. Chewie threw off his safety harness and stood, squeezing past Leia and heading to the control panels in the corridor leading to the cockpit.
“Smooth sailing,” Leia said, unable to stop herself.
“Give her a break,” Han said in a warning tone. “She took some damage in the fight. I know the rectenna snapped off. Lando wasn’t careful enough…”
Leia raised an eyebrow.
“We don’t need it to fly,” Han insisted.
Something loud and heavy clunked behind them, just out of sight in the cockpit access tunnel, the metallic sound almost lost in Chewie’s groan of frustration. The hydraulic system, Leia guessed.
“It’s fine,” Han said through clenched teeth.
“Maybe Mon’s cruise ship can just pick us up here,” Leia mused. “I doubt this little moon is too much out of the way of a luxury cruise line’s course.”
“It’s fine.”
Chewie shouted something from the corridor, and Han nodded, slamming his fist against one of the controls. The Falcon jolted, and Chewie almost crashed down on Leia as he made his way back up to the copilot’s seat. The Wookiee threw himself down, muttering to Han.
“Okay, well, get that fixed, too,” Han said, keeping his voice low. “We’ve got the funds, we can get some upgrades, along with…the other stuff. We could probably get another catalyzer from that scrap merchant, you know, the one on Xandros. That’s on your way, isn’t it?”
Chewie nodded.
“And maybe we can get some civilian parts if we need to. A sensor dish would be cheaper than replacing the rectenna…”
Leia looked past the two of them, toward the viewport beyond as the Millennium Falcon pointed up and soared over Endor. The curving horizon slipped away, the dark, jagged outlines of trees against the stars shifting to show the glow of the horizon, then the cold black of space.
“Careful,” Han muttered, helping Chewie with the controls as the Millennium Falcon entered orbital space. Chunks of debris, the remnants of the last battle, floated nearby.
The remnants of the battle in the sky. The twisted metal was too broken to identify if it was shrapnel from the Death Star or broken pieces of Alliance ships, but either way, it represented death.
Silence hung among them all.
That first night, the sky had been filled with shooting stars. Leia had known then—they all had—that it wasn’t meteorites falling, but space debris pulled from orbit, burning through Endor’s atmosphere. A pretty light display that cost far too much. Even with the fireworks that night, it had still been possible to catch a view of the streaking lights, to wonder if it was friend or foe returning to ash and stardust.
Beyond the orbiting wreckage, Leia could see the outlines of the larger Alliance ships that couldn’t dock on the moon. One of them signaled Han, who answered using Mon’s clearance. As soon as they could, Chewie steered the Falcon away from the detritus, ensuring there was a clear path before punching the ship into hyperspace, heading to Chandrila.
Leia wished that she had closed her eyes as the Millennium Falcon ascended. She wished she hadn’t seen that remembrance of the battle. She’d been on the ground when the Death Star had exploded; she’d seen the lights, but it was distant. Removed. She wished the first stage of their honeymoon had not required them to pass through a graveyard.
But as the blue-white streaks of hyperspace blurred her vision, she recanted the thought about closing her eyes.
Not looking had never changed the truth.
“Hey.” Han stood in front of her, his back to the seat he’d been previously occupying. “Chewie’s got the controls. It won’t take long to get to Chandrila.”
She stood and followed him out of the cockpit. She knew the Falcon well. There was the dejarik table where Chewie played against C-3PO. There was the corridor that led to the escape pod, something she’d sought out after her first trip aboard the ship, just to make sure it was operable. And present.
The Falcon was large, but there was relatively little private space. Luke had slept on the seat curving around the dejarik table more often than not, and Leia had sought out the gun well for solitude when she needed it. She had spent as little time as possible in the bunk room, since it reminded her too much of Han.
Han led her there now.
The bunk room was pie-shaped, the outer edge curving along the line of the ship’s round end. They were close to the engines and the hyperdrive—it was just on the other side of the wall, and when Leia touched the smooth metal, she could almost feel the hum of the Falcon’s life. No wonder Han had claimed this space as his own. One bench stood bolted against the wall to Leia’s left, cluttered with a pile of dirty clothes. To the right were a table and some storage cabinets. Leia caught sight of pre-packaged meal kits and boxes of spare parts, all jumbled together; a canister of hydraulic fluid stood next to an unsealed bottle of drinking water, which was beside a box with grease stains in the corners that could have come from a leaking meal kit or from a recycled part to be repurposed for the ship. Or it might just be literal trash. Leia wasn’t sure; she only knew she wasn’t about to open the box and check.
What drew her attention, however, was the bed.
Leia wrapped her arms around herself. It was one thing to steal a night together, illicit and exhilarated off the win against the Empire. To throw inhibitions to the wind and pretend that the forest moon of Endor was a liminal space where nothing they did together would impact their future. It was an entirely different feeling to look at this room, this man, and realize she was making this an indelible part of her life.
But even as she stared at the bunk, Han moved behind her. His body was warm, his arms strong as they wrapped around her. “I know,” he said. “It’s weird.”
Relief made Leia’s body sag against him. At least they understood each other. She turned and faced him, looking into his eyes. She found no answer in his gaze. But she did see love.
In some ways, it felt like she had known Han all her life. She was absolutely certain what he would do or say in almost any situation. But there was still much of him that was a mystery. He held secrets and a past she was not involved in. And as familiar as they were, there was still that slight way he held back, the tentative touch that wasn’t yet sure. They did not share a past; it was impossible to know if they would share a full future. They only had the now.
He reached out with one hand, brushing her loose hair over her shoulder. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant. His hand stayed on her shoulder, his fingers warm. Leia cut her eyes at him, reveling in the way his grip on her skin tensed at her hooded gaze.
There would come a day, she knew, when there would be no more questions between them. She would fall and know without a doubt that he would catch her, would feel his arms cradling her safely even as the wind whistled past her. She would know his thoughts before he did; she would know his body as well as she knew her own.
There would come a day when there would be no more questions at all.
And until that time, she would find every answer within him herself.
Han’s hand trailed from her shoulder to the nape of her neck, fisting in her hair and pulling her closer to him. She slid her body against his.
Tonight, at least, there would be no need for words at all.
CHAPTER 13
HAN
HAN WAS ALMOST SAD TO see Leia braiding her hair in the morning. She had worn it down for most of her time on Endor, and he liked the way it fell across her shoulders, the little shiver that went down her spine when he ran his fingers through it. But they were nearly at Chandrila now, and she was braiding her hair.
The cruise was a bad idea. He should have just followed his instinct. He didn’t need a luxury liner or a resort on a sunny, lavender-washed beach. He could have parked the Millennium Falcon out in the middle of nowhere space and done everything he wanted to do on his honeymoon without even leaving the ship.
They would have had to have dropped Chewie off first, though. And they were practically at Chandrila. He supposed they may as well check out the star cruiser.
Han left Leia in the sleeping quarters to finish getting ready while he made his way to the cockpit. Chewie was still at the controls, and as soon as he sat down, the Wookiee huffed at him.
“I’m here now, sorry.” Han could see why Chewbacca was on edge. Chandrila was almost as crowded as Coruscant usually was—even as he watched, more ships dropped out of hyperspace and lined up for clearance codes to dock. Still, traffic was nothing Chewie couldn’t handle.
Han reached over and checked the comm panel. Mon had set them up with her own personal clearance codes, giving them priority, and Chewie was already angling the Millennium Falcon out of orbit. It was nice to know the senator from Chandrila.
“I guess everyone wants to celebrate,” Han muttered. A darker side of him wondered who was here for the angle; the Empire nationalized services and goods, and that left a hole in the market.
Han and Chewie worked silently, in perfect tandem, a steadied, practiced routine as they veered the ship toward Chandrila. The blue-and-green world came into focus gently, rolling hills and curving shorelines. As they neared the capital, Hanna City, the skyline of the buildings rising from the ground reflected the soft edges of the world—skytowers didn’t shoot up like the pointed trees of Endor, but instead had bowl-shaped tops, smooth semicircular extensions jutting from the side, and spires that sloped rather than jutted up. The Millennium Falcon swooped over the Silver Sea, sparkling waters glimmering below, before veering toward the docks.
