Between Flight and Longing (PG-13)

[Dafna536]

Лучшее пока из того, что я нашла для себя по Звездным Войнам. Это, конечно, параноя, но, вот теперь боюсь потерять.

Between Flight and Longing (PG-13) Источник
By : Sheila Snow
Archived on: Monday, June 30, 2008
Summary: Attempting to find a cure for a critically ill Luke, Han travels to a backwater planet in the armpit of the galaxy, piloting an aging freighter discarded by the Alliance because it was unsafe to fly. With time running out for Luke, Han figures things couldn't get much worse. He's been known to be wrong before.

CHAPTER ONE

Han Solo glanced worriedly at the occupant of the co-pilot's seat and realized he'd done it once too often when he heard the soft, exasperated-sounding sigh coming from his friend.

"I'm not going to break into little pieces, you know."

Han winced. It wasn't that he minded getting caught -- he never let anyone's opinion get in the way of what he felt was right. It was merely the painful necessity of those covert glances that upset him -- the absolute compulsion to make sure his friend was still there, was still . . . okay.

The kid didn't like to be coddled though, so he probably shouldn't let on how worried he really was. "Well, now, that's a good thing," he said brightly. "This hunk of junk may not be the Falcon, but I'm still not gonna be the one pickin' up all those messy pieces."

"Ah, I see. You're the captain, so minor housekeeping duties are utterly beneath you."

"Got it in one, kid."

Luke Skywalker smiled wanly at him, and that made Han's efforts to keep up the idle banter worthwhile, even though his insides were tied into more knots than a Corellian holodrama.

His smuggler friends would have scoffed at the idea that Han Solo, with his reputation for ruthlessness and never letting personal feelings get in the way of making a profit, would actually participate in an expedition like this. There was no financial gain, no material benefit, no reward -- no monetary reward, that was.

Han would be the first to tell anyone that forming personal attachments was crazy, because nothing in the galaxy was fair, and contrary to the popular belief of the unwashed masses . . . Bad Things did happen to Good People.

And none of that made the current situation any easier to bear.

Frustrated beyond all measure, Han punched a control on the panel with a little more force than absolutely necessary, and the blasted thing had the temerity to "bleek" a protest at him. Snarling, Han punched it again.

Luke's hand reached out and gripped his arm lightly. "Han, it'll be all right."

"That's easy for you to say!" Han snapped, but he stopped abruptly when he saw Luke's head tilt sideways, the smile on his face an obvious gentle reproof. Embarrassed, Han lowered both his eyes and his volume. "Okay, so I guess it's not easy for you to say."

"We'll find it," Luke said.

All those weeks of frantic search, sleepless nights and haunted dreams must have finally caught up with Han, because his reply felt like it was physically wrenched from him. "How do you know that? Damn it, Luke, we're chasing some obscure legend from an extinct species who didn't even have a written language!"

"At least there shouldn't be any translation discrepancies."

"Luke!" The urge to throttle the kid was almost unstoppable sometimes.

Luke sighed, nervously fingering one of the clasps on his Alliance fatigues. "Han, I can't explain it. I just know we'll find the answer."

Han searched the boy's face carefully . . . and wondered why he couldn't stop thinking of him as a "boy." Luke had changed since the destruction of the Death Star, had gained more confidence in himself, although Han guessed that since this latest crisis it was at least partially a front for his friends' benefit. Luke still turned to Han for reassurance during his darker moments, and there had been far too many of those recently. Other than an increasingly preoccupied Leia, the boy simply had no one else.

Still, this strange certainty of Luke's confused Han. Their quest was almost definitely hopeless, yet Luke seemed so sure . . .

He watched Luke's restless hands for awhile. "For someone who's so certain we'll find the answer, you don't look exactly happy about it."

Luke grimaced, and Han reached out almost unconsciously to him, worried he was having another attack.

"I'm all right, Han." Luke waved him off. "Don't hover."

"Luke . . .?"

"We're coming up on the planet," Luke said, pointing at the scanner.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Han, if we don't come out of hyperspace soon, we'll go right past it!"

Grabbing Luke's chair, Han swung the boy around to face him and pointed a chiding finger at his chest. "We have plenty of time, and don't try that misdirection trick on me -- I was using that tactic when you were still in short pants."

Luke pinched his lips into a thin line, his too-slender body shaking in obvious anger, his eyes glaring into Han's.

Now, that was the Luke he remembered! Like a mixture of oxygen and reactor fuel -- ready to explode in sixty directions at once. "Spill it, Junior. We're not going anywhere until I find out what's botherin' you."

Luke lowered his eyes, the brief anger seemingly dying like the last throes of a collapsing star. "It's nothing, really. . . ."

Or maybe it's just sheer exhaustion, Han thought, as he watched the boy's shoulders droop. But Han wasn't about to back down. He definitely had a bad feeling about this. "Luke?"

Luke shrugged. "I told you, I can't explain it. I know that somehow we'll find it, but the process of finding it . . . isn't going to be pleasant." Luke shuddered. "Not pleasant at all."

Hearing the absolute conviction in Luke's voice, Han sighed and rolled his eyes upward.

Damn. Would it cause some major galactic upheaval if just one of my bad feelings turned out to be wrong for a change?

CHAPTER TWO

The old freighter Han had commandeered for their mission winked out of hyperspace a safe distance from the planet's gravity well. The ship may have had a name at some point in her decidedly checkered past, but if so, it hadn't survived the ravages of time and carbon scoring that marred her battered hull. She was known in Alliance records as simply "AF-13," and Han was glad he didn't succumb to the usual smuggler superstitions or that bad feeling of his would be having younglings by now.

He nonetheless crossed his fingers underneath the pilot's console . . . just to be safe.

As they made their approach to the lush, green planet, Han cursed silently to himself as he tried to coax the old girl into a little more speed. He felt half-naked without the Falcon to back him up, but she was on the other side of the galaxy with Chewie on Kashyyyk. With the Alliance's emergency evacuation to their new base on Hoth in full swing, there weren't many choices left for what most of the Alliance High Command considered to be a hopeless mission.

And Luke is just one man . . . even though he did save every last one of their hypocritical backsides on Yavin.

Han tried to push his angry thoughts aside. The Alliance had given them their full support, up to a point, allowing the databank computers they needed for their desperate search to be the last equipment dismantled in preparation for the evacuation. But it still felt like abandonment to Han . . . like they'd given up on Luke.

And that was something Han Solo simply wouldn't allow.

So he had begged, borrowed, cajoled, and very nearly stolen what they'd needed to get here, including this woebegone freighter, but Han guessed they'd only gotten her because the Alliance figured she simply wouldn't survive another hyperspace jump to Hoth.

Oh, Her Worship had done all she could, but her hands were pretty much tied by "The Needs of the Rebellion," and to be fair, she had looked ready to deck anyone who refused Han access to a ship of some sort. Besides, there wasn't a freighter built that Han couldn't coax into some semblance of usability, given the proper motivation. And it wasn't like the bucket of bolts had to hold together for very long. If they couldn't find what they needed on this hole-in-the-wall planet, there was no need for the ship to go anywhere else.

No need at all.

Han checked the scanners. "Looks pretty quiet. . . ." he said, trying to wheedle a little more range out of the antiquated forward sensors. He saw Luke open his mouth, and Han stopped him with an upheld hand. "And don't tell me, 'too quiet.' I think I've got that part figured out on my own."

"Just trying to help, Han, what with your advanced age and impending senility and all."

"Funny, Junior, very funny."

Han frowned at a phantom reading coming from the infrared scanner, but at this range it was difficult to tell whether it was a low-power energy source or merely some type of random disturbance in the planet's ionosphere. "Damn. See that?"

Luke leaned over, frowning at the nebulous blip that faded in and out on the screen. "If it is something, it's awfully small," he said.

"I'm gonna check it out." Han banked the freighter sharply and brought it to full power, wincing when one of the bulkheads in the forward cargo hold groaned in protest.

Luke grabbed onto the navigator's console in what was probably sheer reflex. "Han, maybe we ought to hang back a while, take more readings. . . ."

Han sent the freighter into a long spiral loop on approach, automatically using an old smuggler's trick to confuse any possible targeting control systems attempting to lock onto his ship. "We don't have time," he said shortly.

And he knew Luke heard what he was actually saying: You don't have time.

And the longer the kid had to spend in the pressurized cabin of this freighter, the less time he would have. Han redlined the throttle.

Luke still gripped the console as they spiraled closer to the planet's atmosphere, but his eyes were focused straight-ahead through the transparisteel of the cockpit. "Han, I have a bad feeling about this."

"Blast it, Luke. Don't say that!"

Somewhere behind them, there was a high-pitched whine followed by the "snap/click" of a power transmission relay shutting itself down. Han eyed the blinking red light on his console like it was a rabid rancor, and his face screwed up into a frown. "I could've sworn I'd fixed that thing. . . ."

Luke was pressing buttons on the sensor console. "I think we have a problem."

The life support control panel above their heads sparked ominously, and a truly obnoxious alarm blared through the cabin as yet another power relay shut itself down.

"Really? I never would've guessed."

Luke stabbed the scanner screen with one finger. "It's not some kind of sensor ghost . . . and look at that power signature!"

Someone once claimed there were nearly half a million curse words among the myriad languages spoken in the galaxy, and Han guessed he'd probably go through most of them before this trip was over.

After taking a closer look at the scanner's reading, he decided he'd better save them for later. "Oh-oh," he said instead.

"Han, that's an Imperial power grid!"

Deciding that the wailing alarm was getting on his nerves, Han shut it off by the simple expediency of throwing a hydrospanner across the cabin at the alarm's speaker. It shut off with an indignant squawk.

Luke turned to him with an exasperated look on his face.

Han merely shrugged.

Sighing, Luke turned back to the scanner. After studying the readings for a few more moments, he said, "I think we'd better get out of here."

"No way, kid! I'm not givin' up this easily."

In fact, Han had no plans to give up at all. There was just too much at stake.

He slowed the freighter as they approached the phantom power source. It turned out to be an innocuous-looking metal cylinder about two meters long, painted a dull Imperial gray with a single red light blinking monotonously against the background of the blue-green world beneath it.

Eyeing the readouts on the short-range scanners, Han said, "Look, it doesn't even have a weapons capacity. It must be some kinda drone, or something." He smiled. "Things are looking up, kid -- even this flying deathtrap won't have any trouble takin' that out." Han keyed the start-up sequence for the forward lasers and reached for the activation button.

"No, Han, wait . . .!" Luke said, reaching to grab Han's arm.

Han pressed the button and a beam of blue light stabbed from the freighter into the outer fringes of the planet's atmosphere, leaving a slight remnant of phosphorescence in its wake as it found its target . . . and obliterated it.

Han sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. "See, no problem whatsoever. Now we can. . . ."

Luke interrupted with a disgusted-sounding, "Han!"

"Huh?"

"It didn't have a weapons capability because it didn't need one."

Han looked up from the course he was plotting to the planet's surface. "What do ya mean?"

"My guess is it was part of a sensor net. A sensor net you just ripped a huge, gaping hole in!"

"Oh." Han rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I can't see any interest the Empire would have in this backwater planet, so maybe there's no local Imperial presence and the drone's only hooked up to a long-range relay. I bet we have at least a couple of days before. . . ."

"Incoming, from the planet's surface! Four bogies, moving fast!"

"Or, maybe not," Han muttered. He kicked the throttle up to full emergency power and dove for the inner atmosphere.

"Sith, Han, where are you going? We can probably still make a break for hyperspace if we. . . ."

"I'm not gonna let a few planet-bound yokels keep us from what we need to do." Han spun the old freighter into a tight spiral as they swung away from the incoming ships. "For all we know, those ships are just modified atmospheric craft they use for crop-dusting or something."

Luke swore viciously as he punched up the schematics on the incoming ships. "Imperial TIE fighters," he said. "The non-crop-dusting variety, I'd imagine."

"Don't get smart, kid."

Luke grabbed his arm, forcing him into eye contact. "Han, it's not worth it. I'm not worth it!"

Feeling his expression soften, Han said quietly, "Why don't you let me be the judge of that, Junior. You sell yourself way too short sometimes."

"Han. . . ."

"Look, kid, just make yourself useful and man the starboard laser turret." He snapped his fingers in frustration. "Damn, I forgot I was still workin' on the targeting system on that one. Try the port turret, will ya?"

Luke was still looking at him as if he was planning on doing something stupid. Like arguing with him.

Han made a shooing gesture with both hands. "Go on, Luke, we don't have all day here."

The Imperials decided to underscore that statement with a lucky hit off their aft shields, and the freighter bucked sharply.

With a small sigh, Luke got up from his chair and headed back toward the laser turret. He was almost out of Han's sight when there was another glancing hit, a loud metallic clang followed shortly thereafter by a startled-sounding yelp.

"Oh, and Luke? Watch out for the port hyperdrive access panel -- it has a nasty habit of popping open if it gets hit too hard."

He heard some muffled cursing from Luke's direction that sounded truly unique, and Han made a mental note to ask him what it was.

When they had a free moment, that was.