Log Date:
	5/23/98

Log Cast:
	Leia Organa-Solo, Han Solo

Log Intro:
	Prompted by the sudden arrival in Caspar space of five, count
'em, five Imperial Star Destroyers, the presence of an Imperial Admiral
on Caspar's surface, and no less than Valak himself sensed in the vicinity
by Leia's Force talent, Han has piloted the _Millenium Falcon_ on the
fastest jaunt he can coax out of her across the galaxy, to get Leia safely
home to Calamari. In the midst of his determination to make sure that his
wife is as far away from Imperials as possible -- even if it means hampering
their attempt to pick up Luke's trail -- he's almost forgotten that Mon
Mothma had called him back to Calamari anyway....
	.... but upon the _Falcon_'s arrival, Leia and Han went to
see the Council Leader. And much to Han's shock, Mon Mothma has revealed
to him her reason for summoning him back to Calamari:
	She wants him to assume command of the New Republic Ground
Operations forces.
	Needless to say, Han is rather shocked, though it doesn't stop
Leia from business as usual the next morning....

----------
The morning introduces a cloudless Calamari dawn into the breezy chamber that 
  Han and Leia use as their bedroom, filling the space with sweet salty air 
  and light as golden as the most precious of metals. In the bed, illuminated 
  by that gilded light, Leia stirs when brightness is bathed across her 
  features and immediately rolls away from its insistent glare, pressing her 
  face against Han's chest. _Not yet,_ she thinks blearily.

Han is still deep in slumber, his breathing low and slow and heavy, just a 
  faint rasp of a snore on the edge of it. The five o'clock shadow he'd had 
  last night has progressed more towards eight-thirty, and his hair, cut short 
  for his trip to Tatooine, seems determined to resume its usual scruffy 
  appearance and then some, sticking up in random tufts and spikes along his 
  head.

Try as she might, Leia is unable to ignore the strident call of her 
  subconscious to become attentive to the day just beginning, and with a sigh 
  she lets her eyes open into thin slits. What she sees initially is brown 
  skin with traces of scars: a familiar sight indeed. Kissing Han's chest, she 
  slides her gaze upward toward his face, giving the beard a light caress with 
  her fingertip. "That's going today," she promises herself, softly.

Apparently oblivious to the plans occurring regarding the state of his face, 
  Han continues to lie in repose, though his mouth twitches a little at the 
  contact of Leia's fingertips along his stubbled jaw.

Muzzy-brained thanks to her deep sleep and the lingering aftereffects of that 
  mynock spit Han likes to call Corellia's finest, Leia smirks and submits to 
  the small mischevious side that is rarely seen. She tickles his fuzzy 
  growth, waiting for a reaction.

Han's lean mouth twitches again, and his brows wing down momentarily over his 
  closed eyes, then relax. The slumbering Corellian then unthinkingly turns 
  his head away from the faintly perceived tickling, somewhere Way Out There 
  beyond the veil of sleep across his brain.

Leia's smile grows more perverse, at least for her, and as she studies his 
  profile and awaits reaction she touches her fingertip to her lips then draws 
  that finger along the outer rim of his ear.

One entire side of Han's face contorts for a moment, and a quizzical little 
  noise rumbles out of him, as he tries to turn his head back the other way.

Leia, trying to restrain a giggle, reaches to the nape of his neck, aiming to 
  tickle him to wakefulness...and flee before retribution occurs.

Now, Leia's efforts coax a little groan of discontent out of the Corellian, as 
  one corner of his mind comes online and reports that something is trying to 
  awaken the rest of him, a state of affairs which does not meet with his 
  approval. Time for strategic planning. Burrow the head in under the pillow.

Leia is relentless. So rarely does she find herself in the mood to tease Han, 
  particularly without mercy, that she persists in finding ways to get him 
  awake somehow. Aha. Her hands dive beneath the covers and find his narrow 
  waist, adding a tickle there and one higher up, under his left arm.

The man who might well soon be commanding all of the New Republic's 
  ground-based armed forces grimaces foggily, his eyes still firmly shut even 
  as more and more corners of his brain start reporting in for duty. Their 
  reports are all the same: 'Something's trying to wake us up!' To emphasize 
  the point, Han bodily twitches, trying to roll away from the unwanted 
  disturbance, and in a dazed and dreaming tone he mumbles, "G'way."

Time for a new tactic. Leia reaches across Han for the water pitcher 
  inevitably left by their bed and heartlessly drizzes a few droplets onto the 
  shoulder she so graciously bares for this purpose.

The bared, muscled shoulder in question jerks in startlement, and Han lifts a 
  hand, batting vaguely and clumsily in the Princess's general direction. 
  "G'way," he repeats, though his words are rather muffled, given that his 
  face is half-buried under the pillow. "Wan' sleep."

All right, all right. Apparently Han is both still weary from their journey 
  and from the brandy he quaffed hours earlier. Leia muses momentarily, 
  reviewing her options then, with a shrug, bestows a soft kiss on the back of 
  his neck.

Mrm? Han's half-awake brain reports in a new sensation; this one feels good. 
  Solo sleepily relays surprised approval via a wordless little purr. The hand 
  that had been trying to bat Leia away drops heavily back down to the bed.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," the princess murmurs, tugging lightly on his earlobe 
  with her perfect white teeth. "Come on, you can do it..."

Ah, reports Han's brain, that's Leia. Mmmmmmm. Leia. He rolls back towards 
  her, face becoming more visible as the pillow is shifted out of the way, and 
  he moves a heavy arm over to drape around the Princess and pull her 
  instinctively, dreamingly close. "Mrmrm?"

Leia leans forward to press her mouth to his, a tantalizing reminder of one of 
  a thousand things she adores about him. She enjoys the kiss briefly, 
  savoring the taste of his lips against hers, then, sitting back just a bit, 
  she thunks her pillow against his face. So much for sentimentality.

The kiss, rather better than prior strategies, starts tugging Han towards 
  consciousness. He sleepily returns that kiss, but before he can do more than 
  brush his lips across Leia's, the pillow smacks into him. "Wha?!"

Leia giggles, apparently having discarded the last vestiges of her fatigue. 
  "Come on, wake up, Han. We have a lot to do today."

"Wha... what?" The Corellian fumbles to shove the pillow away, hazel eyes 
  finally managing to have opened, though his gaze is less than alert. His 
  voice, too, is still higher than normal as he drowsily warbles, "What time 
  is it?"

Leia half-crawls over Han to regard the chronometer. "Nearly seven. Why?"

Seven hundred? What civilized beings are awake at oh seven hundred? "Whadda we 
  gotta do?" Han mumbles blearily, eyelids threatening to droop closed again.

Sitting down on the stomach she straddles, she explains candidly, "One, meet 
  again with Mon Mothma. Two, meet with the Council if they have any questions 
  about your new assignment. Three..." She angles forward to present her lips 
  to him once again. "Well. Guess."

Assignment? What assignm--oh. Han kisses Leia willingly, but halfway through, 
  her words sink in, and he groans aloud. "General. They wanna make me a 
  General..."

So her tactic to divert his attention didn't work. Ah well. "Yes, they do. 
  You've done it before, you can do it again. You hungry?"

Food? Mmmm.... Han grimaces, but more alertly this time, and he hedges, "We 
  gotta talk to the _Council_? All of 'em?"

Leia shakes her head, reaching behind her to twist her flowing locks into a 
  ponytail. "Just the Inner Council if any of them. Mon Mothma's got her mind 
  made up on you, so if I know her she'll run interference for you to get you 
  on the job all the faster."

"Great," Han mumbles, starting to struggle to sit up, as long as it's 
  inevitable that he has to be awake. "I guess..." He trails off in the grip 
  of a mighty yawn, then adds thickly, "Guess I better have somethin'. Coffee. 
  When we meeting with 'em?"

Leia shrugs, sliding off of Han and onto the floor. Already she is awake, mind 
  skimming through the activities on her agenda. "I don't know that we will. 
  It's just something I expect. I'll get you something hot to drink, all 
  right?" she notes, anticipating his need as she slides into a white robe.

"Lifesaver," Han mumbles, "even if you were ticklin' me..."

Leia chuckles, giving him a look of dulcet adoration that, like as not he 
  misses in his bleary state. "Go shower and get rid of that scruff, will you? 
  I can't be seen in public with you looking like that..." And her tone 
  implies she's only half-jesting.

The Corellian flashes his beloved a sardonic half-smirk, murmuring, 
  "Absolutely, Your Worship," as he half-rolls, half-falls out of the bed. 
  Staggering to his feet, he charts a wobbly course off to the refresher.

[End log.]