Log Date: 5/21, 5/22, 5/23/98 Log Cast: Han Solo, Tarroc D'agor, Dauthus Snunb, Leia Organa-Solo, Mon Mothma Log Intro: In the personal philosophy of Han Solo, there are times to face the Empire head on with blasters blazing, and times to get the nine hells out of its way. Having just discovered five Star Destroyers in orbit around Caspar, with Leia on the planet as well, the Corellian has declared that this particular time falls into the latter category. Never mind the possibility that the Empire might be in Caspar space for diplomatic reasons -- Han has never, ever called himself a diplomatic man, but it seems fairly obvious to him that Star Destroyers are not vessels of diplomacy. He's whisked Leia onto the _Falcon_ and whisked them both out of Caspar space as fast as he possibly can. Leia has uneasily relayed that she's sensed Valak himself -- the Emperor's successor -- on board one of those ships as well. The Corellian would much prefer to stay and continue the investigation into Luke's capture, but with Leia's safety to consider, he's had very little problem making the decision that fleeing is the better part of valor -- since they can't exactly find and rescue Luke if they're both captured too. And he doesn't even need to invoke the fact that Mon Mothma has summoned him back to Calamari anyway as a convenient excuse. Eluding an inquisitive Imperial shuttle sent out from one of the Star Destroyers, the _Falcon_ skims into hyperspace, and catches up with the _Alderaan_ in a nearby sector of space... ---------- Cockpit(#6362RXnt) The cockpit of the _Falcon_ is reasonably spacious as freighter cockpits go, able to seat four with ease, and some space left over between the two rear seats and the aft hatch. Countless control panels, including the hyperdrive, steering, and power systems, a link to the navcomputer in the forward hold, and access to the weapons systems, cast assorted winks, blinks, and tiny, steady glows across this room; before the pilot's chair on the port side is a computer screen, for navigational data and other information brought up off the ship's computers. Looking towards the fore casts one's view out through the cockpit's dome window, wide and sectioned off by sturdy metal arc and line segments bracing the thick glass. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => NavComp -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- ft leads to Main Ring Corridor (Starboard). A ship has exited from hyperspace at 3,98,3 CS-6780 comes out of hyperspace CS-6780 reverts to realspace in a brilliant flash of light -- even passive sensors can detect the massive amounts of power being shunted to it's weapon systems turbolaser and ion batteries armed and ready. A few fighters drop out of hyperspace nearby and buzz around the larger craft like angry insects though their movements calm as no enemies in the system are detected. CS-6780 just scanned you CS-6780 moves to 10,10,-5 and slows to a stop Designation: CS-6780 Type: Mon Calamari MC80 Star Cruiser Name: NRSC Alderaan Range: 0 Size: 1200 Status: normal Cargo: Type: Size: Amount: -------------------------------------------------- Visual: Clumped, cluttered, and covered with random bulges, blisters, and pods, the monstrous MC-85 NRV Alderaan slides slowly through the expanse of space. The edgeless, cleanly smooth form that appears nearly organic harbors artistry, history, ingenuity, functionality, and graceful power. The blended grey hull is flecked and streaked up and down its seemingly endless length with not only camouflaging paints, but laser burns and ion marks, all taken in the course of its grand service. In some places, turbolaser and cannon ports are visible upon the reinforced hull, and two broad hanger bays lie amidships on each flank. Running lights sparkle, animating the huge MonCal masterpiece. A ship has exited from hyperspace at -17,98,-17 CS-7628 comes out of hyperspace A ship has exited from hyperspace at 3,78,3 CS-5653 comes out of hyperspace CS-5653 just did a focused scan on you SF-3264 is hanging in the void with her lights active and her hull still shimmering from her own departure from hyperspace. CS-6780 yaws around and heads toward one of the YT-1300's on sensors scans it then turns and begins to head towards the other. The weapon systems power down as the transponder is recognized however. CS-6780 moves to 35,-52,113 and slows to a stop Communication from CS-6780 -- "Well, hello General Solo. Sight-seeing?" CS-6780 just did a focused scan on you CS-5653 leaps into the system with its engines blazing. Finally - the engines dim slightly as its turrets swivel about - looking for any Imperial forces. Finding none - the turrets stop swiveling as the gunship returns to a cruising speed - patrolling the area now. Han_Solo radios, "And a howdy and how the hell are ya to you, too. Yeah, saw some real pretty Star Destroyers back Caspar way." to ship cs-6780 Communication from CS-6780 -- "Thank you for the confirmation, General. One Victory I, One Victory II, two Interdictors, an Imperial I Star Destroyer and a Super Star Destroyer sound about right?" CS-7628 just scanned you CS-5653 receives an order and angles away from the Star Cruiser heading out towards the fringes of the system. Han_Solo radios, "We didn't bother to count, but you boys sound like you did. Yeah, we counted about five before I made the jump to lightspeed." to ship cs-6780 Communication from CS-6780 -- "That doesn't sound terribly promising. Do you think they had time to make any sense of your trajectory?" Han_Solo radios, "I hope not. But quite frankly, I was primarily concerned with getting the Princess out of the system. Leia's on board." to ship cs-6780 Communication from CS-6780 -- "Logical decision. *pauses* Might I ask where you're heading?" CS-7628 powers up its hyperdrive engines and prepares to jump A ship has entered hyperspace at 91,-616,-339 CS-7628 engages its hyperdrive and leaves the system Han_Solo radios, "Home. Fast as we can get there." to ship cs-6780 Communication from CS-6780 -- "Ah, well, then I'd offer to escort you back to Calamari, but if I recall correctly the Falcon had a highly.. modified hyperdrive system." Han_Solo radios, "(There's a bark of baritone laughter on the other end of the communication, and as Solo replies, there's pride glimmering through the words. And maybe a bit of relief, too.) She still has it, too. You boys wanna distract anything that might be on our tails, we'll appreciate it." to ship cs-6780 Communication from CS-6780 -- "I believe that the Imperials are aware of the modifications to your vessel as well. *matter-of-factly* I doubt Mr. Adlerson would make the mistake of pursuing a vessel with the speed of the Falcon." Communication from CS-6780 -- "Besides, if they were whole-heartedly pursuing you, a vessel would have arrived just under four minutes ago. However, I have stationed the Reliance here temporarily to fly CSP." Han_Solo radios, "(Dryly) Didn't stop 'em pursuing us the last several times we tangled with 'em, pal, but noted. And thanks." to ship cs-6780 Communication from CS-6780 -- "Then perhaps I'm over-estimating my opponent. At any rate, you won't be pursued past Sluis Van, or hopefully Sullust. The jump has already been astrogated and is on our navi-computers if you want it, the Alderaan will be proceeding to Calamari so that I can meet with Mon Mothma." Han_Solo radios, "(Dryly, again) I got it alright, but thanks again. We're about to jump. (A beat, then.) Makes two of us. We'll see ya there, if not before. Solo out." to ship cs-6780 Communication from CS-6780 -- "Acknowledged. D'agor out." [Off the two ships go, and after a couple of hyperspace jumps the _Falcon_ and the _Alderaan_ arrive in the Sluis Van system...] A ship has exited from hyperspace at 290,91,-97 SF-3264 comes out of hyperspace Automated Message from P-3923 -- Welcome to the Sluis Van system. Please note: All civilian ships must be checked through customs before being allowed to land on the planet OOC: Contact Ackbar or radio the Deliverance CS-9139 CS-4238 just did a focused scan on you Communication from CS-4238 -- "Defiant to Millennium Falcon. Do you require assistance?" A ship has exited from hyperspace at 310,91,-117 CS-6780 comes out of hyperspace Communication from CS-6780 -- "Well, General, looks like we're in the clear, hmmm?" Han_Solo radios, "(Han Solo's baritone voice comes in clear over the comm lines, sounding tired, but steady.) Hi there. No, we're okay, now. All quiet in this sector, Defiant?" to ship cs-4238 Han_Solo radios, "(Solo replies reflexively, from the sound of his correction...) 'Captain'. I ain't been a General in a while now. (There's a hint of tiredness to the Corellian's voice, but only a hint.)" to ship cs-6780 Communication from CS-6780 -- "Understood, Captain. Well, shall we?" Communication from CS-4238 -- "Sorry, I'm obliged to say that when I see your ship and its condition. All quiet here, General Solo. Security is tight down on the planet, though. We've got an important ship under construction at the military shipyards. Planning to land?" Han_Solo radios, "Just sayin' hi to the Defiant. (Magnanimously, he drawls in addition,) If you need the headstart, feel free to go on ahead o' me." to ship cs-6780 Communication from CS-6780 -- "*chuckles politely* You're too kind." CS-6780 powers up its hyperdrive engines and prepares to jump Han_Solo radios, "(It's probably a good thing that the _Falcon_ is communicating voice-only at the moment; accordingly, Solo's rolled eyes remain unseen.) Nah. We're on our way home. Keep your noses clean, boys. Solo preparing to jump, and out." to ship cs-4238 A ship has entered hyperspace at 12,14,-19 CS-6780 engages its hyperdrive and leaves the system Communication from CS-4238 -- "Roger. Captain Snunb, over and out." SF-3264 powers up its hyperdrive engines and prepares to jump A ship has entered hyperspace at 12,-6,-19 SF-3264 engages its hyperdrive and leaves the system [The trip continues, drawing out into late hours of navigation as Solo stays at the controls of his battered freighter. Eventually, the _Falcon_ and the _Alderaan_ make it to Kashyyyk -- and by now, both he and Tarroc D'agor have made it a matter of pride as to which of them'll get to Calamari first.] A ship has exited from hyperspace at -416,122,723 CS-6780 comes out of hyperspace Communication from CS-6780 -- "Captain, you're welcome to come aboard if you want to save the fuel." Han_Solo radios, "What, when we're within spittin' distance of Calamari?" to ship cs-6780 Communication from CS-6780 -- "I should have offered earlier. My apologies." Han_Solo radios, "(Solo, from his tone, is very likely rolling his eyes.) You're _too_ kind. We'll finish this little stroll just fine, thanks." to ship cs-6780 SF-3264 powers up its hyperdrive engines and prepares to jump Communication from CS-6780 -- "Of course." CS-6780 powers up its hyperdrive engines and prepares to jump A ship has entered hyperspace at 14,-10,-7 SF-3264 engages its hyperdrive and leaves the system [And at long last, the two ships come out of hyperspace over Calamari, only to find that this particular sector of space isn't unoccupied either...] A ship has exited from hyperspace at 124,-13,179 SF-3264 comes out of hyperspace A ship has exited from hyperspace at 104,-33,199 CS-6780 comes out of hyperspace Designation: P-9880 Type: Planet Name: Calamari Range: 475 Size: 32638456 Status: normal Visual: CS-6780 reverts to realspace and yaws its bulk around to head first towards SF-8430 -- then back around towards the planet. CS-6780 moves to 94,-275,-69 and continues to move Communication from CS-6780 -- "Home sweet home, eh?" CS-6780 moves to 88,-397,-203 and continues to move CS-6780 moves to 92,-315,-113 and slows to a stop Han_Solo radios, "(There's a hint of tired amusement in the Corellian's voice._ You said it, pal. See ya planetside." to ship cs-6780 Communication from CS-6780 -- "Acknowledged. You know, I'd tend to wonder if a ship called the 'Death Carrier' should be hanging around the cradle of the New Republic..." CS-6780 begins heading towards the planet applying negative thrust to slow to a stop as it arrives and sets into a high atmosphere orbit. One of the hangar bay doors slowly opens. SF-3264 for its own part keeps heading planetside her own thrusters flaring in sporadic bursts as she drops into the atmosphere. Han_Solo radios, "(There's a faint chuckle of a reply -- Solo, evidently, is distracted by the task of landing.)" to ship cs-6780 [Which Solo does, bringing the _Millennium Falcon_ down into Coral City's public landing bay. And with Leia getting herself freshened up in the bunk room and Chewie to finish up getting the ship settled down, the Corellian steps out for a breath of fresh air and the opportunity to see D'agor face to face...] You head down off the entry ramp of the _Falcon_. Calamari Coral City -- Main Spaceport -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Economic Presence -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Millennium Falcon => Shuttle: Freedom => STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- The Stray Cat => STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Ziggurat => Shuttle Call - Calamari => IGNews Terminal (NR) - Calamari => STARFIGHTER: Sienar Lambda Class Shuttle -- Freedom -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- aiting leads to Waiting To Be Linked. orth leads to Military Landing Platform - Calamari. ivil leads to Civil Offices - Calamari. leads to Calamari Coral City -- North Coral Avenue. STARFIGHTER: Incom T-65B X-wing -- Ghost 1 arrives with a woosh and slowly settles down on the landing area. Ghost One appears first as a speck on the horizon, seeming to grow in size as it approaches. Finally reaching a position near the landing field, it uses it's repulsors to begin it's descent. The X-Wing sets down gently on the tarmac -- its pilot seems to pick a spot relatively close to the Falcon, though leaving a reasonable amount of space at the same time. Solo is leaning against the support strut of the _Falcon's_ lowered ramp, dark hair riffling in a night breeze. The Corellian looks tired, at least a little, and he's pulling in a long, slow lungful of fresh air. Amenable enough to watching the X-Wing land, Solo remains where he is; Chewie and Leia'll catch up with him soon enough, but on the other hand, he's reluctant to leave them, anyway. Tarroc has arrived. The canopy of the X-Wing slowly retracts and its pilot stands, gently tugging his flight gloves off and stuffing them into his back pockets. He removes his flight helmet and drops it into his seat, then calls a thanks down to the flight technician who pushes a ladder up for him. Climbing down, he frowns as the comm-link back in his fighter beeps. "Hey, pal," Solo calls out, "thanks for keepin' on our wing on the way in. Leia's dropped off, Chewie's securin' the ship -- I'm gonna get 'em, but thought I'd come out and thank you, anyway." Tarroc looks back towards Solo and proffers him with a faint smile and a nod, calling back, "Pleasure's mine, Captain." He nearly runs back up the ladder, leaning inside to listen to the most recently received transmission. When he turns around and starts down to the tarmac again, he would appear to be wearing a somewhat pensive frown. The Corellian straightens, preparing to head back up into the _Falcon_ to rouse up the equally tired Leia and let her know they've landed, if she hasn't figured it out already. But D'agor's expression holds him, at least for a moment. "What's up?" Tarroc rubs his chin for a moment, apparently in deep thought. The call echoing in his mind, however, eventually draws him from his reverie. He looks up and then makes his way over, not really wanting to shout about galactic power shifts across a landing bay, "You see a ship called the 'Firedancer' in Caspar? Sardakh Kale-1?" Solo lowers his own voice down to conversational volumes as the other man draws near, and his dark brows draw together over his hazel eyes. "Saw a few Kale-1's, didn't check transponders. Why?" Tarroc clasps his hands behind his weight, shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other -- perhaps the man doesn't deal with people face to face as well as through a comm-link. "Well, it just jumped into Sluis Van. The Deliverance scanned it, the thing was carrying -tons- of weapons, and was heading for Corellia. The pilot identified himself as Grei Lar, the former Director of Kichnar station." Solo blinks. Four or five times. And from the look that crosses his face, something's just clicked into place behind his eyes. "I _did_ see that ship," he rasps, a bit too tired to really sort out the implications here. "Not long before I got the word to get here. Ah, hells..." He tugs a flight glove off one hand, and rubs the exposed palm across his eyes. The etched frown lines in the pilot's face become more pronounced, "I think it gets worse. He described what happened between the Empire and the Casparians as a 'one-eighty'... I'm not sure what that could mean, though. Do you know if the Typhoon or any other Caspar ships were still in-system when you launched?" Muttering a throaty Corellian curse, Solo shakes his head. "We were countin' Star Destroyers. Dammit." He starts to turn to go back up the ramp, pauses, and adds with a slight smirk, "Grei Lar told me the Imps were on his tail, if that means anything. If he got as far as Sluis Van, I guess they were too busy lookin' for us. Look, pal..." And Solo glances up into the ship. "I got my wife on board there, and I wanna get her to somewhere she can lie down before she takes it into her head to take my head off for getting us outta the Caspar system before we could finish lookin' for Luke. 'Scuse me, will ya?" Tarroc nods succinctly, mind already working a-mile-a-minute again. He looks up just in time to see the Corellian making his way back into his ship, then offers, "If it's any consollation, our tactical analysis would put him at Mutanda, Bespin, or O'paal. Maybe Athaniss... Oh, and I'll have Mr. Lar's conversation forwarded to Ms. Organa-Solo and the rest of the Council." "Thanks," says Solo gruffly, clomping up into his freighter. He thinks to pause a moment to add, "... again," before he vanishes into the ship. Han_Solo enters in a code and enters STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Millennium Falcon You head up onto the entry ramp. Main Ring Corridor (Starboard)(#678RntJ) -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Threepio -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- ft leads to Bunk Room.

ort leads to Cargo Hold. ore leads to Cockpit. tarboard leads to Calamari Coral City -- Main Spaceport. Han_Solo enters Main Ring Corridor (Starboard) It's almost a recurring theme in his thoughts these days, the background growl of _Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit..._ Grimacing tiredly, Han comes clomping up into the ship, shoving a hand through already hopelessly disheveled hair. Leia is towelling her hair dry, another towel tied about her torso; her presence indicates that Chewbacca is assuredly elsewhere. "What's the matter?" she asks wearily, giving her husband a sideways glance. Leaning a moment against a bulkhead, Han groans, then segues his way into, "Ah hell, D'agor says the patrol we passed back at Sluis Van stopped a ship full of weaponry on its way to Corellia. I think I met the Captain." "Oh?" Leia leans forward to drape her locks downward, giving the underside of her hair a vigorous series of rubs. "And?" Smirking, Han says, "And the guy had a lady friend who blew up at me when I apparently failed to grasp that she was wanting ideas on how to get her boyfriend past the Imperials. Or help. Or somethin'." His expression shifts towards a dark sardonic scowl, and he grumbles, "Between her ranting about how she thought somebody connected with the New Republic would be more charitable and her sweetheart making cracks about how he musta mistaken me for somebody else, it was another fine diplomatic triumph for the Solo branch of the NR. You wanna go talk to Mon Mothma yet, or crash first?" he finishes, abruptly shifting subjects, though he's still scowling. Leia shakes her head firmly, answering as she heads for her clothes, "No, we should get this over with. She needs to know, and I can't relax before it's off my chest." The Corellian only nods curtly. "I'll find Chewie and ask him to catch up when the ship's secure." After drawing her dress over her head, Leia begins working on a quick braid of her very long hair, never missing a conversational beat. "Good. He might have noticed something as we left the system." It takes Han only a moment to return, sans Wookiee as of yet, and he nods darkly as he opens up the hatch to let himself and the Princess out of the ship. Leia pauses near the exit, her freshly made braid running the length of her back, and she stands on tiptoe to bestow a tender kiss on her mate. "Thank you for getting me out of there last night, by the way." The Corellian blinks, a time or two, then allows himself to loop an arm around his beloved for a moment and answer that kiss. "You're welcome," he mutters roughly, lopsided grin flickering into being for a moment, though it doesn't quite make it up to lighten his exhausted eyes. "Someday," says the princess as she pulls Han down the ramp, hand nestled within his, "we'll stop rescuing each other all the time. Come on, Captain." _Someday,_ thinks Han in agreement, letting himself be led this time, now that they're on a safe planet. Leia heads on down off the entry ramp. Leia has left. You head down off the entry ramp of the _Falcon_. Calamari Coral City -- Main Spaceport -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Economic Presence -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Leia => Tarroc => STARFIGHTER: Incom T-65B X-wing -- Ghost 1 => STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Millennium Falcon => Shuttle: Freedom => STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- The Stray Cat => STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Ziggurat => Shuttle Call - Calamari => IGNews Terminal (NR) - Calamari => STARFIGHTER: Sienar Lambda Class Shuttle -- Freedom -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- aiting leads to Waiting To Be Linked. orth leads to Military Landing Platform - Calamari. ivil leads to Civil Offices - Calamari. leads to Calamari Coral City -- North Coral Avenue. From the lowering ramp of the _Falcon_ come Han and Leia, both looking weary, though the former is more rumpled than the recently refreshed latter. Holding hands, they seem to be engaged in a quiet sort of conversation that has left the princess with a tiny, sweet smile on her lips. The fresh air outside the _Falcon_ braces Han up a little, though what the Corellian _really_ wants is coffee. Preferably laced with brandy. What he _doesn't_ want is to have to slog off to Mon Mothma's office. But Han Solo's never been a man to hide from a confrontation, and as it's a confrontation he's half-expecting when he and his wife meet with the Council Leader, he squares his shoulders, sets his jaw, and accompanies the Princess. Tarroc is standing idly by the landing gear of his X-Wing, the light of the datapad illuminating his features as he studies it, considering when to go see the Council Leader himself. He seems to be wearing the same pensive expression as before, as if it's been etched into his face from much consideration. He lifts his gaze towards the lowering landing ramp, taking his attention from his reading for the moment. Leia's walk is brisk in spite of her fatigue, purposeful despite her reluctance, though when she notices the officer near the X-wing she nudges Han and turns toward Tarroc. "Commodore...?" Tarroc stows the datapad quickly and then pauses, chewing on his lower lip. o O (Protocol.. protocol.. uh, no, salute won't do at all...) O o . He settles on a pleasant, if a little forced smile, "Hello Councilor, Captain." Solo simply nods tiredly to D'agor, though he pauses readily enough as Leia nudges him. "I wanted to thank you for your assistance in getting us here," the princess intones quietly. "A brush as close as that one isn't any fun." To Han she adds, hand squeeze and all, "Come on...let's not keep the Council Leader waiting." "Can't have that, can we?" Han mutters lowly. But he also squeezes Leia's hand in reply. Augustus heads down Coral Avenue... Augustus has left. Tarroc retains the smile and gives a slight nod, murmuring something along the lines of, 'good of all goodly folk,' under his breath. "Of course, Councilor. I wish the meeting was under better circumstances, of course." He pauses a few moments, then addends, "Oh, and I'd imagine she'll be wanting to talk to me soon, I'll be either on-planet or aboard the Alderaan." Nodding, Leia murmurs, "I'll let her know." With a parting smile she walks toward the council building in strides surprisingly lengthy for so diminutive a lady. It's probably practice keeping up with Solo that lets Leia cover so much ground so quickly; Han, at any rate, matches her stride for stride, as if determined to keep himself moving in order to keep himself awake. Tarroc watches the two depart, drawing a deep breath and releasing a sigh of relief. "Spared from a meeting with Mon Mothma, if only for a few hours," he muses, then begins analyzing some information on his datapad again. [And shortly, as Han and Leia arrive in the NR Council Building, and head straight for Mon Mothma's office....] You enter Mon Mothma's Office. Mon Mothma's Office -- Council Building -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Mon_Mothma -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- ut Leia enters from the hallway. Leia has arrived. Leia clears her throat and, coming to a halt across from the mahogany desk, says quietly, respectfully, "Thank you for seeing us on such short notice." Sporting a five o'clock shadow and looking, if possible, even more rumpled than usual, Han Solo accompanies his wife into the office, and does his best to pretend he's looking alert. From the overall appearance of the Corellian, he's rather surly, but he keeps his greeting down to a rasped, "Councillor." Mon_Mothma looks up as the two enters, a few hints of dark bags resting under her eyes. A visage right out of the days of the Rebellion. Still, she smiles at the sight of her old friend and says, "Welcome back, Leia." Mon_Mothma appears to notice Solo as a secondary thought, and gives him an equally thorough smile. "Captain, good to see you too." She looks past Han, as if expecting to see an additional person. The fact that she doesn't does not appear to overly distress her, but her brows knit in a very slight worried expression. "It's good to be back," Leia replies, meaning every syllable. "We expected you would want a full report on Caspar, so we've come to..." As she catches Mon Mothma's gaze and its aim beyond Han, her voice trails off and, startled, she too glances behind her husband. "Chewbacca's securing the _Falcon_," Solo states without being asked. He leans tiredly against the wall by the door. Mon_Mothma shakes her head as she forces the smile to brighten a little, "Sorry if I am distracted." A pause. "Yes, I would appreciate any information that you have." Leia inhales, collects her thoughts, and explains, "We were warned of an Imperial fleet arriving in Casparian space not long after it came out of hyperspace. On our way back to the _Falcon_ we saw Grand Admiral Adlerson and his contingent. Then, on the way out of the system...." Her coloration lightens from the memory, "I felt something very disturbing...I'm certain it was Valak." "And we _didn't_," puts in Han testily, "have time to find out what's happening to find Luke when I got the word you wanted me here. Under the circumstances, I'll deal, but why _did_ you want me back here?" Leia shoots a glance Han's way, then quiets and lets him speak. Mon_Mothma holds up a hand to Solo, otherwise remaining gestureless. Her hard eyes transfix on Leia, keenly seeking the information in her. "Valak? On Caspar?" She exhales a breath, letting the hand fall. "Indeed, things may be worse than I had thought." Again, she looks hard at Leia, "Do you think Caspar will fall to their wishes?" Subsiding, but still scowling, Han keeps holding up the wall with his shoulders. "Five Star Destroyers in orbit," he mutters, "are a real good way to enforce your wishes." Mon_Mothma glances to Han upon his comment, giving a small nod to give creidance to the comment, then turns back to Leia, listening to her explanation. "I heard rumors that Caspar might receive an Imperial delegation," Leia remarks with another upward glance at Han, "but I didn't expect this size or this level of visitor. I'd be hard-pressed to believe they'll remove themselves easily, but...I really can't say." Han eyes Leia back, frowning -- if she'd heard rumors, what does this imply about the nature of the visit, especially with the word 'delegation' involved? His scowl deepening, he jams his thumbs into his blaster belt. Mon_Mothma says, "I can imagine it will be hard to say no to the Emporer without the backing of five Star Destroyers." She shrugs her shoulders, "I can not imagine he is doing it for any other reason that for show. They would have needed only a few to subdue that system. And, if his intents were hostile, I should think that you would not have seen Admiral Adlerson until you were very securely incarcerated. It must be a diplomatic mission." She eyes you both, "Most likely to.. persuade them, as only the Empire can do, to remain out of the affairs. For now. It will be our job to remind them that, if they do stay out of the affairs, for now, that they shall have to account for them later." Leia, chewing on her lip, notes carefully, "Mon Mothma, we saw Admiral Adlerson. He didn't see us. I really don't think that we'd have gotten away, considering the bounties on our heads. Still, I hope your assessment is correct." "You mean I--" Han bursts out, surging up from his slouch, before he forcibly cuts himself off and resumes scowling. _Great,_ he thinks, smacking his palm against his brow and trying to keep hold of his fraying, exhausted temper. "Diplomatic mission or not, no way in nine hells were we stayin' there. And besides, you wanted me here anyway, right?" Leia moves a chair closer and lowers herself into it without invitation, looking as weary as she feels. A finger rubs idly at her temple, her lips thin into a frown. Mon_Mothma says quietly, eyeing Han. "I do not think the Admiral would have landed if it was a military operation. The only people you would have seen would be Stormtroopers." She then turns, fully giving her attention to Han. "And yes, I did want you to return. It is unfortunate that you were not able to recover Master Skywalker in that time, but we must proceed with out him. I definately do not blame you for leaving. And, in fact, I thank you for making a sensible decision when too many unsensible ones have been made at late." A brief glance to Leia, before back to Han. Leia, likely wisely, holds her tongue and continues rubbing her temple. _Well, this is a switch,_ thinks Han grumpily. _Bein' told I've done somethin' sensible for once..._ He leans forward once more where he stands, demanding, "So why did you recall me? I thought you _wanted_ me out there lookin' for my 'old friends'." Barely, just barely, he keeps his tone civil, though he keeps scowling vehemently as he adds, "And for that matter, why the hells wasn't I informed about Luke _before_ I took off for Tatooine?" Mon_Mothma levels an even look at Han and says, "It is none of my business to meddle in your family affairs. I had assumed you knew about it, and were making a choice to serve the Republic, leaving Master Skywalker to his own devices." A light shrug, "As I've said to Leia before, each of you may be important, but none is above the importance of the survival of the New Republic. The reason I called you back, is because we need your talents again." She eyes Leia. She probably won't like this, "I would like to re-instate your commission." The temple rubbing stops. Han's expression turns positively thunderous, as he grates out, "I didn't _know_ because nobody apparently thought it worth their time and trouble to _tell_--" But he abruptly halts in mid-sentence, bafflement washing over his weary features as Mon Mothma's request hits him. He blinks, then says blankly, "What?" The temple rubbing resumes, firmer and more vigorous than before. Mon_Mothma says, "In the past month, two of our highest command officers in Ground Operations have retired." Her expression turns a little dark, "I can not explain to you in words how inconvienent their timing is, with the Empire on our doorstep. I need a capable General in command of our forces gathered on Sluis Van. And, you're the only man I know living that's capable of the job." Han blinks. Again. His hazel eyes then go wide. Although his jaw doesn't actually drop, it might as well have -- this being as close to reflecting total, complete astonishment as the Corellian's sabacc-steady expression generally gets. Mon_Mothma leans back in her chair, the business done. A slight smile twists at her lips, despite herself. She apparently appreciates the specialness of bringing about a situation to which Captain Solo has no words. And Han finally blurts, exhaustion and annoyance and startlement all mingling together to accentuate the rough edge already present in his voice, "Let me get this straight... you... want _me_... to take command of _all_ of GroundOps?" Mon_Mothma shakes her head, "No, just the ones stationed in Active Duty on Sluis Van at the moment." She neglects to mention that it is basically the entire GroundOps. Leia, eyes still closed, head aimed downward, states in soft support, "She's right, Han." That's all. Nothing more forthcoming. Han's head whirls, as he stands there almost gaping at the Council Leader, his dazed thoughts struggling to get a handle on the woman's request. Arguments and counterarguments spring into being in his mind, and all at once, the Corellian finds himself feeling very, very tired; this isn't the kind of thing you want to spring on a man who's just urged his ship at top speed halfway across the galaxy and has been up all night doing it. "I gotta think about it," he manages hoarsely. Mon_Mothma nods her head deeply, expecting as much. "Of course. I expected that you would." Leia pushes herself to her feet and brushes a wrinkle out of her dress, letting the folds drop into a smooth line. Impassive as she is, her reaction to Mon Mothma's request is difficult to glean, and she's deliberately averting her gaze. "Yeah," mumbles Han faintly, to Mon Mothma, all he succeeds in saying to her observation. As Leia rises, the Corellian swallows a little; he's shifted from looking grumpy and exhausted to thunderstruck and exhausted, and it's doubtful he's aware of the sidelong glance he flicks to the Princess, in unconscious seeking of a cue of her mood. Mon_Mothma watches Leia stand, but seems uncharacteristically lethargic and remains seated. She looks to both Han and Leia, in turn, and says, "This may be our darkest hour since the Empire was ousted. If Caspar falls to their side, then people will justly question our ability to protect them. What is the purpose of the New Republic if it can not protect those that it claims to govern over? To unite the galaxy as one government body, we must gain the trust and support of worlds that do not yet back us." She says with a heavy sigh, "If more is lost, it may be the end of the New Republic, brought on by our own inability to act and re-act to situations that we would have been able to do as the Rebellion. We must adapt, and to do that, we need both of you strong and at your best." Lifting her chin, Leia remarks in a clear voice, "I couldn't agree with you more, Mon Mothma, which is why I'd like to return to Caspar with the understanding we can support them. I've tired of giving them nonsequitors as answers. As far as Han goes..." She effects a small smile, flicking a glance at her husband, "he'll make the right decision, I'm certain." "What?!" _Now_ Han gapes, as he whirls on Leia, to cry, "Your Worship, maybe you hadn't noticed, but there _are_ five Star Destroyers back there in that system!" He jabs a finger skyward, not bothering to pay any attention to subtleties such as Caspar's actual position relative to the Calamari system. "...AFTER the Empire withdraws," Leia explains patiently. "Which I'm assuming they will." Mon_Mothma watches the interchange, not daring to venture a word. The heated exchange between political leaders is nothing compared to a married couple arguing. Oh. _After_ they leave. He knew that, right? Han blinks a few more times, now actively, actually reeling as he's cut off in the middle of an explosion of temper for the second time in ten minutes. "... right," he growls, then, just to save at least a _little_ face, he jabs a forefinger at his wife and adds for good measure, "_After_ they leave!" He then stoically sets his features into the levellest expression he can manage, and adds to both women, "You two hash out what you need to.... 'scuse me, will ya?" And, quite abruptly, he slaps the door control and stumbles out into the corridor. East Wing -- Council Building -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- <2> leads to Winter's Office -- Council Building . <1> leads to Mon Mothma's Office -- Council Building . est leads to Lobby -- Council Building . Leia has arrived. Leia walks from Mon Mothma's office toward the lobby. She neither stops at her husband's side, nor does she seem inclined to conversation. Han, perhaps surprisingly, hasn't wandered off very far. He's slouched against a wall in the corridor, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, and grimacing in general bafflement. "General," he mumbles, presumably to himself. "Why the hell... _me_...?" At Leia's footsteps, he lifts his head, blinking as she passes him without a word. "Leia..." "I need a drink." Leia's words are tossed over her shoulder as her stride, not breaking, carries her further along the corridor toward the lobby. Han does his third double-take since he set foot in the building, and hurries to catch up with his wife, unsure whether to grin at her. "That makes two of us," he rumbles fervently. "Back to the Falcon, or home?" Leia's stop is so sudden that Han's far-longer strides likely carry him a foot or two beyind her. Then, just as abruptly as her cessation of movement, she begins to walk once more. "Home. A bath, some wine, and home." All this stop-and-start isn't exactly helping Han's tired brain, but he somehow manages to keep himself in Leia's proximity as the two of them make their way westward out of the building. "Home," murmurs Han in agreement. "Lemme go tell Chewie... I'll meetcha, okay?" Leia's nod is absent as she declines to meet his hazel gaze. "Don't be long," she murmurs and continues toward the building in which their apartment is located. [And not too long afterward....] Passing the security personnel on duty, you enter the suite. Princess Leia and Han Solo's Quarters(#6069RntA) The main room of this private suite is decorated in soft shades of white and beige, and the lighting is a subtle glow that chases off the shadows without being harshly bright. Two plush chairs surround a table of dark, refined wood that rests beside a large open window that looks out upon the oceans of Calamari. The floor is carpeted to match the decor, and to muffle footsteps throughout the suite; the center of the floor, however, is covered with a soft, shaggy rug in assorted shades of grey and tan. A side corridor leads off to the more private rooms of the suite; the most apparent exit is the door leading back out into the base. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Leia -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- aster Bedroom leads to Master Bedroom. uest Room leads to Guest Room. ut leads to Waiting To Be Linked. It doesn't take too long before the suite's front door whishes open to admit Han. He's alone, and still looking more or less dazed, as he comes stumbling into the room. _General,_ he thinks again, for the twentieth or thirtieth time, _and not just a General, CO of -all- of GroundOps... nine -hells-...._ A soft glow from the direction of Leia's makeshift office indicates the use of a recently installed holo projector and, as Han enteres the suite, the glow dies to a low light. All is, again, quiet. "Leia?" Han calls hoarsely, moving towards that dim, brief illumination. "You in here?" Leia's answer is not immediate, nor is it much delayed. "Yes...just some work to attend to." She sounds as drained as she appears, the sublighting throwing unattractive shadows that hardly help the situation. "How is Chewie? What did he say?" Stepping up behind the Princess to drop his head down to rest on her hair, Han mumbles tiredly, "When I told him Mon Mothma wants to hand me GroundOps, he said, and I quote, 'And...?'" And the Corellian lets out a ragged breath. "Gonna talk more when I'm coherent..." Leia rises, noting with wry bemusement, "You look like warmed over Bantha fodder, Han. You need a shower, a shave, a meal, and a lot of sleep." "I need brandy," Han corrects petulantly, straightening up again with a bit of stiffness to his carriage as his beloved gets to her feet. "Pour two," Leia suggests, padding toward the bedroom. "And bring them in here; I'd like to stretch out. Better still...bring the bottle." He _thought_ he'd remembered Leia claiming she needed a drink on the way out of the Council building, but Han still blinks owlishly down at her for a moment anyway before the request sinks in. He then manages to smile onesidedly. "I'll get the special stash," he promises, heading off to do just that. Inside the bedroom Leia discards her dress and leaves it in a puddle on the floor - uncharacteristic of her - and throws one of Han's older, softer white shirts over her head. That accomplished, she flops onto the bed and stares at the ceiling, content just to be where she is. A moment or two later, slipping into the room with a three-quarters-full bottle in one hand and two small shot glasses in the other, Han pauses to take in the sight of Leia on the bed. He then sinks down on the bed beside her, holds out one of the glasses, and murmurs huskily, "Ever told you you look good in my shirts?" Leia sits up, drags the tie out of her hair, and shakes loose her braid. "Not as good as you do," she admits, briefly admiring his long, lean form before taking the proffered glass...and tossing back its contents. "Gods..." she chokes. Han manages another crooked smile, and even manages to refrain from commentary on how his clothes fit him even when they look like he's let a horde of crazed Ewoks use them for battle flags. What he does say, as he pours himself out a shot and downs it without even blinking is, "My sentiments exactly." Leia slumps against him, grateful for the familiar warmth and comforting support, and holds out her glass for another dollup. "So what have you decided, if anything?" The question is a fair one but voice without concern, as though she anticipates his answer. Brandy is promptly provided. Han hadn't lied when he'd called this the special stash, either; the bottle's label claims it's older than he is, and the stuff seems to have a way of burning smoothly and cleanly on the way down. He downs a second shot before slumping back against the headboard, pressing the glass to his head, and waiting for the brandy to start warming his innards. "I'm still trying to decide if I want to ponder it sober," he rasps. Leia shows a hint more caution in tossing back the second of her glasses, swallowing without a single cough...though her eyes show signs of tearing. Once she sets aside her shotglass she settles against his shoulder, murmuring, "It doesn't matter, Han...you'll take the position. The question is how much internal wrangling you'll do before you come to that decision on your own." Han blearily peers at Leia as she nestles up against him, then he twitches in a faint bark of laughter. Setting his own glass aside, he keeps hold of the bottle, and slides his free arm around his wife. "Yeah?" he murmurs. "Who says?" "I say." Leia nuzzles him briefly, a show of tenderness rather than amour. "You'll never admit it, but you are at least as dedicated to the Republic as I am, and you want to do the right thing. You just complain more about it than I do." Considering for a moment, Han lifts up the bottle, takes one long, ardent swig before setting the thing down on the floor, and freeing up his other arm for curling around the dainty form beside him. Grimacing, he murmurs, "Okay, who says puttin' a reprobate like me in charge of an entire frekkin' army's the right thing?" Leia chuckles, though the sound is devoid of most humor. "I say. Mon Mothma says. Anyone who served with you during the Rebellion says. Stupid Corellian." Han sighs, feeling the brandy set off a trail of fire down through his chest. Hugging Leia to him, he murmurs sardonically, "What about the people who say I'm an arrogant, egotistical bantha's behind?" Smiling, trying to combat the sleepiness wrought by the brandy, Leia answers earnestly, "Oh, they'd be right. But they'd alsy agree you're a wonderful, natural leader and unmatched in strategy." Audibly, Han snorts. "My strategy tends to be 'shoot first and then run like hell,' remember?" Something of the edge has subtly left his voice, but whether it's due to Leia's compliment or the brandy hitting his system is anybody's guess. Leia purses her lips considering then nods, snuggling down more closely against his side, eyes closing. "Sometimes we lose because we lack agression...you'd change that if nothing else." The smirk crossing his face is no longer viewable, with Leia curled up in the position she's in, but Han smirks anyway. "Yeah," he mumbles, "I got aggression down to a finely honed science. People keep tellin' me _that_, too." If one didn't know Han better, one might wonder whether the Corellian's feelings were hurt. He blows out another brandy-scented sigh, then squeezes his Princess and adds fretfully, "I don't... _see_ you often enough as it is..." Leia pushes away from her husband's chest and regards him directly, clinically. "Have I changed that much?" she inquires, brow arching. "Honestly, have I?" His hazel eyes turning ever so slightly liquid -- perhaps either due to the brandy, or just plain exhaustion -- Han gazes up at Leia, and lifts a hand up under the loose flowing waves of dark hair to connect with her cheek, then to slide back around behind her neck. Han's brows draw together, a bit bemusedly, at what seems to him to be an abrupt subject change, but he murmurs readily enough, "No... not in the ways that matter." "Then some time apart shouldn't kill us," the princess observes wryly. Blowing out a breath, she traces a finger down his chest, watching its path attentively. "Even if it feels like it will." "I--" As Han is not a particularly eloquent man, that's about as far as he gets, alcohol and fatigue and the memory of too many recent months without Leia combining in him to turn his expression strangely awkward. He reaches up to tug the Princess's slight form back down beside him, and as he does, he plaintively rumbles, "How we supposed to start a family if you hafta beat sense into the heads of politicians, and I hafta beat sense into troops?" A thick blush cascades into Leia's cheeks, blooming pink where before there was only the pallor of fatigue. The hand on his chest spreads to encompass a pectoral, or as much of one as it can grasp, and as lightly as her embarassment will allow she answers, "We'll manage when we're together. We always do, don't we?" Han's chest rises and falls in reaction to that gentle contact, then settles back into the usual rhythm of his breathing as he cradles Leia close to him once more. "We do alright," he agrees, voice beginning to slur, just a little. Leia hides her bemused smile as she detects signs that the brandy is worming its way into Han's system; it's already generated the light head sydrome for her, but a gracious plenty of tutelage in hiding alcohol's effects keeps her from betraying any tipsiness. "I never thought I'd see the day when Han Solo was drunk from two shots of brandy....*Corellian* brandy...." Han's bleary eyes snap open; they had been, it can be noted, about to drift shut. "I'm not drunk," he protests staunchly. Leia's fingers begin working at the buttons on his shirt as she murmurs placatingly, "Mmmmhmmm...I know, Han, I know. My big, strong husband would barely feel the effects of a few drops of brandy. Mother's milk to him, it is." "Damn straight," rasps the Corellian, trying to lift his head to peer down at the activity of those unbuttoning fingers. And he thinks to add, "Just a little tired, s'all..." "Yes, yes, yes, yes," Leia tushes, clacking her tongue sympathetically while working to ease Han's shirt off of his shoulders. "I'm certain in the morning things will look and be much better, hmm?" Han's brow crinkles; his wife, he realizes, is using her Of Course You're Not Drunk voice, not unlike certain tones Chewie likes to take with him when drinking Han under the table -- not that he _lets_ Chewie drink him under the table, but what fault is it of _his_ that Wookiees don't seem to get drunk? Levering himself up on his elbows to contribute to the shirt removal effort, he takes internal inventory. All portions of his body seem in general agreement that being horizontal is a Good Idea, but, Han concludes firmly, this just means he's tired, not drunk. He shifts his weight onto one elbow, freeing up a hand to point a finger at Leia and deliver in stern and stoic tones, "I am _not_ drunk." Innocence incarnate, Leia simply nods, tosses his shirt to one side, and removes the shirt she briefly borrowed before worming her way under the covers. The sheets, cool and clean, kiss her skin with freshness and a lingering sensation of being home. "The man I married would never, ever be aware that two shots of Corellian brandy even contained alcohol." As she turns on her side away from him, tucking the pillow beneath her head, she concludes, "Sleep well, dear." "Damn straight," Han agrees once more. "I drink it for the flavor." And just to prove that he _isn't_ drunk, he sits up, to conclude the job of removing clothing. The boots come off readily enough, but it takes the Corellian a bit to handle the pants. But never let it be said that Solo backs down from proving a point. He swings his now-bare feet down to the floor, stands, fetches his pants and both of his shirts, and walks determinedly to the 'fresher unit to stuff all three garments in there for the cleaning droids. And walks just as determinedly back to the bed, never mind that motion _does_ seem to set off little sparks at the edge of his vision. Lying down again, crawling in under the covers and sheets to join his Princess, he sallies back, "Good night, Your Highnessness." [End log.]