Author's Notes: I have other fanfic from the Hercules: the Legendary Journeys side of the Force at http://www.rtis.com/nat/user/chimera/legends.htm
DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
Han Solo leaned on the stone counter and stirred his drink with a finger. The bar in the main floor of the Kskannit Port Authority was lavishly decorated with trailing vines, floating glowglobes in their own little clouds of colored mist, and scenic murals of the ocean views, beaches and rocky islands that surrounded the port city. The bar was built on a multitude of levels, landings for tables and booths connected by winding stone stairways. Even though it was mostly filled with merchant and corporate types, with a few off-duty Imperial officers scattered through, it was still a nice place. Han wished he was there with anybody else.
General Madine, the highest ranking Corellian in the Alliance forces, was standing next to him, surveying the mixed human and nonhuman crowd with what he probably thought was casual interest. To Han's eyes, he looked unmistakably military, even in civilian clothes.
Madine glanced at Han, saw what he was doing to his drink, and his mouth tightened in mild disgust. He said, "They're late," managing to convey the suspicion that this was in some way Han's fault.
"Yeah," Han answered, mentally adding asshole, and licked his finger off.
Madine looked away with a sour expression.
It was the first words they had exchanged in two hours.
Han and Madine had cordially hated each other from about the time Han had first stepped off the Millennium Falcon on Yavin 4. Madine was a stickler for military discipline, a martinet, and he hated the myths that depicted all Corellians as pirates or smugglers or just constantly involved in some sort of illegal activity. Han figured he was Madine's worst nightmare, and he liked it that way. That Madine was also an arrogant, judgmental bastard hadn't helped their working relationship any, either.
Madine had been on Bail Organa's staff on Alderaan, sent there years ago as a liaison when the Corellian planetary government had been funneling credits into the building of the Rebel Alliance. That support had ended with the Imperial crackdown on the Corellian homeworld, and now most of the funds generated by the Corellian starshipyards went straight to the Emperor. Madine had remained in the Alliance, on Alderaan, and it was only luck that he had been offplanet with General Rieekan when the Death Star had destroyed it. Han figured part of Madine's problem was that he had been on Alderaan too damn long.
This whole trip had been an exercise in a kind of self- discipline Han didn't normally practice. He and Madine's most common method of communication was to trade insults and the old, overcrowded rebel command frigate Tantavie IV was just barely big enough for the both of them. To get along for this amount of time aboard the Millennium Falcon they had resorted to simply not speaking unless absolutely necessary. Thwarted of their usual means of self-expression, they had resorted to facial expressions. Han didn't know how many more times he could take Madine's "you're contaminating my airspace by existing" look, complete with contemptuous lip-curl, without becoming homicidal.
But the mission was almost over. One more meeting with the Rathian traders and the trade conference at Kskannit FirstDome tomorrow, and that was it. So I just have to get through one more night without killing him, Han thought, sighing to himself.
Madine looked around the bar again. Being sent here with Han Solo had been a major aggravation. He had always thought Luke Skywalker a welcome addition to their pilots, but Solo he hadn't trusted at first. Eventually, he had to grudgingly admit that while Solo still didn't have any respect for the goals of the Alliance, he did seem to feel personal loyalty to Princess Leia and General Rieekan, at least. It was just his personality he found repugnant.
Solo fit the image of what the Empire was trying to convince the rest of the inner worlds Corellians were like so well it might have been designed with him in mind. He was scornful of authority, unbelievably arrogant, and his past was so shady it didn't bear investigation at all. The fact that he had admitted to being a smuggler only made Madine wonder what he wasn't admitting to. And he had found the downport accent especially irritating, and even more so when he had realized that it was something that Solo could drop or assume at will, depending on just how irritating he wanted to be.
They had managed not to have any acrimonious exchanges during the trip to Kskannit and their time waiting in the port, but Solo had proven a master at the body language of contempt. How someone could manage to convey that he found your presence an almost overwhelming burden by doing nothing more than looking at you was baffling, but Solo was an expert at it.
Madine glanced at Solo again, slouching against the counter and looking so much like the typical Corellian pirate that he was surprised they hadn't been arrested yet. He let out his breath in annoyance, then saw a Rathian moving down the steps in their direction.
Han spotted the Rathian at the same time. He said, "That's him," at the same time Madine said, "Here he comes." They glanced at each other in irritation.
Han knocked back the rest of his drink and got ready to playact. They were here to meet with Rathian Traders, posing as representatives from a Corellian trading conglomerate. It was part of a plan to get the Kskannit World family, now up to its collective ears in debt to the Rathians, out of hock before they were forced to open their accounts to a takeover. A large part of the reason they were in debt was that most of their liquid funds had been used to buy ships for the Rebellion.
Leia Organa was at FirstDome, the World Family's private retreat on the opposite continent, pretending to the Rathian representative there that she was a scion of Ascalon Trading, and about to bolster the World Family's credit and prevent the takeover. Chewbacca was with her, as bodyguard and pilot. Han had been stuck with Madine, since they were supposed to be from a Corellian company. Their job was mostly diversionary, to keep the Rathians off-balance and make them think they were drawing unwelcome interest from other corporations. Leia would do the real work of frightening the Rathians away from their quarry.
The man moving towards them was dressed in a bright shimmersuit very much at odds with the duller colors worn by the spacers and the natural toned silks of the natives. He was short, middle-aged, and corpulent, which was an important symbol of financial success on Rathi. It was a new one this time too, Han noted. The traders had sent a different representative to each of the three meetings so far. The Rathian approached them cautiously, as if they were a pair of growling nashtahs, and said, "I am Thelit Narin. One of you is Madine, of Dagram Trading?"
"I'm Madine."
"Greetings to you." The Rathian eyed then both a shade nervously, Madine thought. Since nervous was exactly how they wanted the Rathians, it was all for the better. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Narin added, "Your... associate has a name?"
Madine looked at Han, who was leaning on the bar with one hand hooked in the tiedown of his low-slung gunman's holster, relaxed but with an air that suggested he could react with lightning swiftness. He was surveying the room with narrowed eyes, as if trying to decide who to shoot first if a firefight started. His gaze came to rest on the Rathian trader and stayed there until the man blanched, then he said, "No."
Madine smiled, pleasantly. With Han radiating so much menace, the Rathian would probably see the expression as sinister. The General said, "Shall we sit down? I think we still have a good deal to discuss."
Madine leaned on the railing of a broad walkway that overlooked the lush tropical vegetation below, waiting for Solo, who had stopped at the Port Authority to make sure their launch window hadn't been moved back. The port was a little crowded and it had been the earliest one they could get; it was important they take off on time, to make the meeting with Leia Organa and spring the trap on the Rathians.
The early evening breeze had been cool, but oddly seemed to be growing warmer as the sun went down. It was still heavy with the mingled scents of flowering vegetation and salt from the nearby sea. The buildings growing out of the tame jungle below were white reinforced stone, with domes or flowing arches, all connected by broad walkways or lifttubes. There were few people or droids out in this area, which mainly contained various freight line offices and the port's Business and Navigation center; most sentients would be gathering at the other end, where the entertainment complexes were located. Madine thought about what this pleasant place would look like if the Empire found reason for a crackdown and full occupation, and felt a coldness settle in the pit of his stomach.
Madine turned as Solo came down the ramp that led from the Port Authority. Solo paused, scanned the several levels of sparsely occupied walkways around them with a preoccupied frown, then snapped, "Come on," and started away.
Madine swore under his breath and followed. Rank meant nothing to Solo. He refused to hurry to catch up and the other Corellian was forced to wait for him at the lifttube, pacing impatiently and glaring at him.
They had gone down a couple of levels and were taking the long straight stretch that led to the forest of docking platforms, when Madine realized what was bothering him. He had caught a glimpse of a human spacer behind them in the second lifttube, and now he saw the man again, coming down the walkway after them. This would not have been unusual, since this was the shortest way to the ships, but he had also seen the man leaning in a doorway on the upper level, while he had waited for Solo outside the Port Authority. He looked forward again, and said, "We're being followed."
Solo gave him a contemptuous glance. "What, you just noticed?"
Madine pressed his lips together. He usually ignored Solo's attempts at provocation, finding that annoyed the other man more than any attempt at a reply. But he found himself snapping, "You could have mentioned it."
"What, am I your mother?" Han didn't wait for an answer. He took a quick turn into another lifttube and Madine perforce followed.
The bottom of the tube opened into the downport. All ports had downports, places where neither the local nor Imperial law could quite reach, where anything could be bought and sold, where it was dangerous to travel alone. Here the metal walkways were only a few feet above the ground level, and the vegetation shut out all the fading daylight, and the smell of wet soil and garbage canceled out the flowers and the sea. Arc lights on the support pillars lit the shantys constructed of leftover scraps of portable building materials and the more permanent structures that were disreputable bars or shops. Everything seemed closed and there was very little sound or movement.
Han had already drawn his blaster. He motioned for Madine to take cover behind a support pillar perhaps twenty feet away. "You take that side. And watch yourself."
Madine grimaced at the unneeded warning but headed for the pillar, drawing his own weapon.
Han stepped into the shadows of one of the deserted shacks, waiting. The man trailing them might just be looking for an easy target, but in that case he should have taken off when he saw there was two of them. Between the Empire and the Rathian Traders' machinations, there was every reason for extra caution. He hoped it turned out to be nothing. The sooner we can get out of here the better, Han thought. Kskannit's downport wasn't much compared to those of the giant ports of Commenor or Forsalis, but it was better not to hang around here too long. And it was damp and uncomfortably warm, down here below the jungle level.
Leaning in the doorway, Han had to blink and rub his eyes. What the hell... The arc lights had suddenly developed colored halos. Before he could wonder about it the spacer stepped out of the lifttube.
Instead of moving briskly down the walkway the man stopped, his hand dropping to his holster and looking suspiciously around at the deserted buildings.
An amateur, Han thought in disgust. He waited, watching, but the spacer seem to realize something was wrong, and hastily retreated back to the tube.
Leaning against the pillar on the far side of the walkway and watching the man who had followed them, Madine wiped perspiration off his forehead and realized he was a little light-headed. It was almost as if he had had too much to drink, but though the Rathian had insisted on buying them two more rounds of the local liquor, he hadn't even touched his second, and the stuff wasn't that strong, anyway. Especially not to the Corellian metabolism, which could tolerate amounts of alcohol that most human species would find toxic. No, it couldn't be the liquor. He hadn't slept much last night, since the Falcon's threadbare spare bunk was even less comfortable than the accommodations on the Tantavie; he was probably just tired.
He watched the spacer retreat and wondered impatiently where Solo was. Just then Han stepped around the pillar and brushed past him, saying, "What are you waiting for? Come on."
Madine jumped, startled. As Solo had stepped past him he had felt an almost overwhelming rush of...not anger, but something oddly near it. Something he would rather not think about too closely. Madine swore under his breath and hurried after him.
Going up in the docking pylon's elevator, Han found himself leaning against the clear wall, watching the ground fall away and half-hypnotized by it.
"Dammit, are you listening to me?" Madine's angry voice finally penetrated.
"Yes, what?" Han snapped, startled. He hadn't heard a word the general had said, but he didn't consider that a problem.
"The Rathians must be suspicious." Madine was pacing in the large elevator, empty except for themselves, his arms folded, his face angry.
"Oh, no kidding." Han leaned back against the glass wall and stretched luxuriantly. He realized he had never had sex in an elevator before. Or a lifttube, for that matter.
"They might even suspect we're from the Alliance." Madine threw Han a look of contempt. "You probably gave us away."
Lifttube, definitely, Han was thinking. Have to give that a try, eventually. Though it presented unique logistical problems. Madine's words sank in an instant later and he stared at him, his jaw dropping. "Me? Where the hell did that come from?"
"During one of the meetings, you must have done something--"
"All I did was sit there, you were the one who did all the talking," Han said, outraged. "If somebody gave us away it was you." His job had been to fly the ship, stay with Madine, and keep his mouth shut, and for once he had actually managed to do just that. Madine kept glancing at him, then looking away, his fair complexion reddening. For some reason, this made Han even angrier than being unfairly blamed, and he added, "If I did something to screw the mission, you tell me just what the hell it was."
That Madine couldn't answer and, fortunately, the elevator stopped at their docking level.
They reached the Millennium Falcon without further incident, and Han paused only to seal the hatch and set the controls on voice-lock before heading for his cabin. His goal was to get away from Madine as quickly as possible, before he did something he probably wouldn't regret later.
In the cabin, Han noticed the ship's airmix was oddly warm and he wondered briefly if there was something wrong with the cooling system. He pulled off his vest and dropped it on the floor, then took off his blaster belt and hung it on the hook above the bunk.
He sat down heavily and wiped his forehead, surprised at the film of sweat. He felt a little light-headed, too. Maybe it was that lousy local rotgut. The trader had kept buying them drinks and the Kskannit brew was unpleasantly sweet. He had only had a couple of glasses, though. No, Madine was so damn hostile he was probably emitting a magnetic field that was making Han ill.
He struggled out of his boots and flopped back on the bunk. He didn't feel like just going to sleep, though he probably should. He was restless in the worst way and wished he could go back out and try to scare up some compatible female company in the entertainment complex. I wonder if there are any Corellian ships in port. That stray thought brought back a potent sense memory of the night he had spent on the cargo lifter in the Falcon's hold with Captain Lane Triskill and her first mate Adrinna. He groaned and rubbed his face, trying to banish those images. No sense getting worked up when you have to stay here and guard what's his name. Better settle for a cold shower, Solo. He tugged his shirt open at the collar. Damn, it's hot in here. Something's got to be wrong with the enviromentals.
"Solo, we need to talk." Madine was standing in the cabin hatchway, which Han had somehow forgotten to close. He hadn't calmed down any from their earlier discussion; in fact, he looked even more irate.
Han sat up on his elbows. "Fuck off."
"This is a vital mission--"
"I know that, dammit." Han slung himself out of his bunk and pushed past Madine. He was going to check the enviromentals, but when he got to the main area, he couldn't remember what he had come in here for. Madine stormed up behind him, saying, "The Alliance is paying enough to keep this jury-rigged scow in operation, you could at least try to fulfill your end of the bargain."
"I am, dammit." Han hated it when people insulted his ship; insults to himself or even Chewbacca were far easier to shrug off. He could have pointed out how many x- and y-wing pilots this jury-rigged scow had picked up when combat forced them to eject in deep space, how many retreats she had covered, how many times she had been shot up or had to fight her way out of tractor beams, all for the Alliance. Instead all he could think about was how easy it would be for Madine to fail to survive this supposedly low-risk mission.
"Well, you don't act like it! You don't give a damn about the Alliance, or what we're trying to do. You're only with it for what you can get out of it."
"Yeah, sure," Han snarled, not really paying attention now. The enviromentals, he thought, that's what I came in here for. He went back to the aft engineering station to look at the readouts.
Madine followed him. "Is that all you've got to say?"
"You think whatever the hell you want." He stared at the display on the unit, baffled. The controls were all reading normal. Great, the internal sensors must be out of alignment, Han thought. Like I really need that right now. "If you think I blew this mission deliberately, fine. I don't give a shit."
"That wasn't what I meant," Madine said, but didn't bother to clarify what he did mean. "You're behavior on the Tantavie is disruptive, insubordinate--"
Han really, really hated the word "insubordinate." He turned slowly to face Madine, more than annoyed now.
"--and you've slept with every woman on my Command staff," the general was shouting "What are you trying to do, work your way through the whole fleet?"
This was really unfair, considering there were only three women on the command staff and Han had only slept with two of them. Instead of pointing this out, he said, "Jealous?"
Madine grimaced and didn't bother to dignify that with an answer. "Why the hell are you with the Alliance anyway, Solo? Can you just tell me that?"
"Damned if I know." This was too close to the truth for comfort. Han couldn't believe he had blurted that out.
"I know why," Madine said bitterly.
Han leaned back against the workbench for the engineering station, his expression sardonic. "So enlighten me."
"You and Leia Organa."
"That's none of your business." Han knew saying that made it sound like there was something going on, but there hadn't been anything between he and Leia so far except friendship, since thoughts and fantasies didn't count. But they had gone on several long missions together, with nobody but Chewbacca along as a chaperon, and he knew this had made several members of the Alliance High Command a little nervous.
"It is my business," Madine said. "The last thing she needs is pirate scum chasing her like--"
Han was suddenly, violently, angry. He pushed forward, almost into Madine's face, and said, "Leia doesn't need your help to deal with me." That one didn't come out right, commented the part of his mind that seemed oddly uninvolved in the argument. He tried again. "Maybe she doesn't need it. Maybe she wants it." There, that made a little more sense. Sort of.
Part 1 Part 2