Every Harlot, part 12 Standard disclaimers This part PG, overall NC-17 Minor slash implications, no worse than prime time TV The small ship, drawn in by the tractor beam, was landed automatically in the same docking bay as a very battered freighter. No one noticed the small vent under the afterburners opening, or the two men who slid out, one young and dark, the other much older. The Imperial petty officers who made a life-form scan overlooked the crates of droid parts scattered about the hold, since the cargo manifest stated tech droids for a farming world. The organic captain had bailed out when his life-support failed, according to the log reader outside the missing escape pod. The two men, cloaked in Force-generated dimness, passed unnoticed into an empty guard station. Obi-Wan Kenobi seated himself at a terminal and and began tapping the station nets. "Artoo would have found it more quickly, but we couldn't risk him. Here." The old man handed Biggs a durofilm map. "Go and find Princess Leia. I will deactivate the tractor beam." "Sir, my ship doesn't have amenities for 3." "We'll steal another flight suit and I shall be fine in the hold. Quickly, son, and the Force will be with us both." "Yes, General." Biggs studied the map and considered his options. He would skulk about, take an officer and steal the uniform. One more officer on a place this size wouldn't be noticed, especially near the officers' quarters. He wondered why she was being held there instead of in the detention area. Carefully he moved through the corridors, working his way nearer with each cautious turn. The man ahead looked about his size, and when he stepped into an empty conference room, Biggs followed. He'd meant to strike quickly, but the Imperial's reflexes were faster than his. In the brief scuffle, he gained the upper hand and took a good look at his opponent. "Solo? What are you doing here?" He'd met the smuggler one evening in Chalmun's while he was trying to find a cargo. He didn't much like the smug Corellian, or Chalmun's, and had avoided the place since, knowing there was nothing legal to ship there. "Better question is what're you doing, Darklighter? With the reward out for the Rand Ecliptic mutineers, you've got nerve leaving the Rim." "I was taking a passenger to Alderaan, but it's not there." "I know. I watched it destroyed three days ago. Why'd you jump me?" "Tell me why you're here and in a rankless uniform." "I'm the personal aide to Lord Vengar." "Lord Vengar? He's here?" "The Emperor left this morning so he's not only here, he's in charge." Biggs, knowing time was slipping, pulled his blaster. "Give me your uniform." "What?" "I need your uniform. You can give it to me, or I'll blast you and take it." "Save me from heros and idealists! One guess, you're here for the Princess." "Good guess. Too good. Now I have to shoot you." "No, look, I want her safe too. Wouldn't mind getting out of here myself." "Why?" Biggs finally let the older man up, watching how stiffly he rose. "You OK?" "Let's answer both and say Lord Vengar's definition of personal aide doesn't include recording correspondence. That punch you landed isn't helping much, though." Biggs rubbed his own jaw ruefully. "You didn't do too badly either." He didn't want to think about Luke and the smuggler spending time together. He wasn't sure he liked what he was piecing together from the spaces in Solo's words. "If you don't mind the old posing-as-a-prisoner-to-move-freely scam, I can take you back to our quarters and get you a uniform. And we can both take the Princess from there. Lord Vengar often sends me to bring her to him." Biggs agreed, not really trusting Solo, but knowing the Corellian had a reputation for personal honor. He hoped to hear more about Luke as the plan unfolded. They made it to the Officers' Quarters without incident, and Han shoved Biggs quickly through the doors before anyone could see. "They'll either think you're a present for him, or that I'm sneaking around." "You're his lover?" Biggs managed. He couldn't keep the shock, hurt and slight jealousy out of his voice. "No. Love isn't part of this." Han turned to program the autovalet. "I'm his, like he owns his boots and lightsaber. And I'm tired of it. If all of Kashyyk wasn't hostage to my good behavior, I'd fly you out myself. Can you fly a YT-1300?" "Yes." Biggs was looking about the room, and found the holo of Luke and his father. Badly shaken, he moved away, seeing nothing of his boyhood friend in this near-sterile room. "Take the Princess out on the Falcon. It's faster than anything you could be flying. Just just don't mess with any of the modifications. I'll find a way to get out and get her back." The autovalet beeped, and dispensed a lieutenant's uniform in Biggs' size. "Get dressed. You have a princess to rescue. Do you have a plan?" "Yeah. It involved mugging you for your uniform, stealing a spacesuit and getting her out that way." "Don't you have a spare? Unless you're not alone..." "Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Princess sent him a message. Droids! We've got to get the droids onto your ship." "You're a lieutenant now. Go down and have some stormtroopers do it. Invoke Lord Vengar if you need to. I'll give you a ten minute head start, and go get the princess. I can bring her aboard, ostensibly on an inspection tour, you two dump me off the ship and leave. Damn. Wish I could come." "Not with a whole planet hostage. That changes, take the Shooting Star and get out." They clasped forearms in the manner of spacers. As Biggs reached the lift, he turned. "Take care of her!" Han said. "I'll get your Star back to you." Han paced out the ten minute wait and then strode casually to Leia's quarters. The stormtroopers, used to him, waved him through. "Where to today, Mr. Solo?" The princess stood up a bit too carefully. "Not far I hope." Her walk was hesitant as she came to the door. "The General demands your presence." Mindful of the cameras, he was cryptic. She tucked her arm in his and pulled his face down as if to kiss his cheek. "Who?" "Obi-Wan," he answered, giving the name Biggs had given him. She tucked her hand in his arm as she had so often these last few days, and went with him. He set a slow even pace, but every few steps, her jaw clenched and once she stumbled. "Are you hurt, Your Highness?" "Just uncomfortable. You're right. Morning sparring can be a bit vigorous. I apologize for calling you a bad liar." She watched his reaction carefully. Six or seven emotions warred ver his set face, but none the expected jealousy. Concern, and relief seemed to be winning, oddly enough. Anger at her cold calculation was there, too. "Sure you want to leave, Princess? Or are you enjoying your morning workouts enough to stay?" She stared at him in shock. He had never said anything that harsh to her. "How dare you?" she finally spat. "How dare you suggest I would betray my cause for a man? Especially the son of our enemy!" The lift arrived cutting off further arguement. A Captain and two troopers joined them. They stood at the back of the lift, Leia's hand still firmly on Han's arm, and waited. "Heard our next destination?" The contempt for both of them was clear in the Captain's voice. He stared at the level numbers. "Dantooine," Han answered, grinding his teeth at the Captain's tone. "Thanks to this lovely traitor." "Yes, lovely," the Captain commented, turning his attention to the Princess. He lifted her chin and she resisted the urge to snap at is fingers like a bad-temper caniad. "Has our handsome Dark Lord convinced you to join us yet?" Leia kept her face immobile and glared at him. "Is she any good, or does he share the sweetmeats that drop in his lap?" "I suggest you remove your hand from the Princess' face at once, Captain Azar," Han said in the quietest, most deadly voice he had. "Lord Vengar does not share. What is his, he keeps. I would regret having to tell him of your imposition. He has spoken of the need to keep discipline lately." The Captain's hand dropped away as if the Princess' jaw were afire. One of the troopers surreptitiously pressed the button for the next floor, and they left hastily. They rode the rest of the way to the docking bay in silence. Han led her through, as if on a cursory tour while on the way elsewhere. "And this was my ship," he said, more for the benefit of the listening stormtroopers than the princess. "That piece of junk flies? You're braver than I thought." He pointedly ignored the amplified snickers. Apparently the entire battlestation knew, or at least conjectured, what was going on in Lord Vengar's quarters. He caught a swift glimpse of Biggs in the cockpit. As he and Leia walked toward the ramp, something caught the stormtroopers' attention. They jogged off toward a set of blast doors. Han heard a distinctive hum. He shoved Leia toward the ramp. "Get aboard, now!" In the hallway, an old man with a blue lightsaber was parrying Luke's every stroke. Han started toward the duel, at least attempting to look as if he was supporting his superior. Luke caught sight of him, and snarled. His words were barely audible over the distance. "And you turn my people against me, old man! Just as you turned my mother against my father. Did she welcome you into her bed to cuckold him the same way my grandmother welcomed your master when he cuckolded you?" "You know not of what you speak, young Luke. You have tasted only the Darkness." "I have the Force, which you cut me off from. I have my father, whom you tried to murder!" The anger in the boy was palpable, affecting everyone. "You cannot win this battle, Darth. If you fall, there is not even the Force for you. If I fall, I shall become more powerful than you can imagine." "Jedi lies and riddles. You are weak, old man. And you will pay for all your crimes." Distracted by his anger, Luke's parry was a half-second slow, and the blade wasn't there anymore, but slicing through bone and flesh to send his lightsaber dropping to the floor, as lifeless as the hand that still held it. The blast doors began to close, and the last words Han caught were "You are dead," directed at him. Han marveled as the old man ran lightly toward the ship, using his saber to deflect blasterbolts from the stormtroopers with the ease of long practice. He saw Kenobi was headed for the Shooting Star and groaned aloud at what he was about to do. "This way, old man!" He directed the Jedi onto the Falcon and bolted up the ramp himself. "Darklighter! Fire us up! And get in the right hand chair!" Falling into his chair, much missed in the last weeks, Han noticed that Biggs had run a precise, if fussy, preflight. He made one of the fastest take offs in a life characterized by rapid departures. The old man, still breathing hard, sat in the seat behind him. "Hope you got that tractor beam out of commission, or this will be a real short ride." The Princess was strapped into the comm seat, holding tightly as he made the jump. The chaos on the station was apparently great enough that no pursuit was launched. In the safety of hyperspace, Han relaxed. Introductions were made all around, and he excused himself to his cabin. The ship had been left intact, and he changed out of the uniform, delighting in his freedom. His spare shirt was still folded, and he found a second vest. He still felt naked without a gunbelt, but he could replace that soon enough. In the main compartment, Biggs and Obi-Wan were assembling an astromech droid. "What's so important about the droids?" "This one carries the tactical readouts of the battlestation," Leia answered. "I only hope when it is analyzed, a weakness can be found. This isn't over yet." "Not while they've got my buddy grounded, it isn't." Han agreed. "That's all you care about, isn't it?" she snapped. "Your friend, your ship, your skin! I'm surprised you aren't charging for this rescue!" Confused by the sudden rush of anger, and tired of holding his own tongue, Han exploded. "Maybe I should! I haul your pretty double-buns out of Lord Vengar's bed, get you back into the fight for your cause and save your life, and you're mad at me? I should charge, but no reward is worth this!" He stomped back to his cabin, and dropped onto his bunk, feeling as if he'd just been batted around by the Force Luke had used on him so often. Leia's anger had the same feel to it for some reason. Leia stalked to the small cabin she'd been given, and tried to figure out what was wrong. She analyzed her behavior the last few days and was shocked at herself. She had welcomed her enemy into her bed, and even now desired him. She could feel him, in pain, and resting under a meshy haze of drugs. She wished she were there to comfort him and shook herself free of the thought. Obi-Wan Kenobi, last of the Jedi, sat glumly in the Falcon's forward compartment. His failure was complete. He had lost father and son and now the daughter as well. When Leia had lashed out at the pilot, only he had seen the dark wall of Force rise off of her to batter at him. What amazed him was how well the pilot shielded himself from the attack. He was not Force-sensitive, but had apparently endured many such assaults. The Force-stench of the Sith was fading off of him with each moment. And what had the man said about taking the Princess from her brother's bed? Did they know? And was it possible? Force no! He tried to find his center, but meditation wouldn't come.