Landing platform X779-b332, Coruscant
Han Solo frowns at the rain as it comes down all around him. Glancing back towards his beloved ship, he walks to the edge of the landing platform and stares down into the abyss beneath them. His eyes scan the open space below them, looking for any signs of the local constabulary, or worse, those blasted CorSec agents who have been hounding him throughout the Core and Colony regions.
He feels a feather light touch on his shoulder, and turns to look at his wife, giving her a rakish grin as he takes in her form. Even in the rain, she is beautiful. His eyes travel up her form, taking in first the form-fitting black pants, then the white tunic, which is quickly becoming transparent in the rain, and the black ship jacket which she is using to preserve her modesty, then finally her face, which hold her crystal blue eyes and is currently framed by her shoulder-length black hair, which is hanging straight and wet in the onslaught of water.
“Unloading is done, and don’t be so paranoid, Han. I’m sure we gave those Horn boys the slip on Kuat.”
She notices the way his eyes travel up her form and quirks an eyebrow at him. “Now, are you going to help me get these clothes off, or do I have to do it myself?”
He grins at her. “Well I can’t have you do everything all by yourself. Let’s go get those clothes off of you.”
As one they turn and head towards the Falcon, just as a police speeder comes to rest on the platform they currently are on. As Han turns to watch it, two Coruscant Security Officers step out of the front seats. He utters a curse as two more people get out of the back, both of them wearing the black and green uniforms of the Corellian Security Force.
The CorSec officers walk over to Han and Mirax, as the Cocurscant Security officers boards the Falcon. The smile on Corran Horn’s face is almost enough to get Han to punch him once in the nose. As Han thinks that, a gleam appears in Corran’s eyes, almost daring Han to try it.
The other officer places his hand on Corran’s arm. “That’s enough son.”
Corran glances at his father, and quickly nods his head, his features schooling themselves into the professional face worn by police throughout the galaxy. Hal turns his attention to the two smugglers. “So, I guess we finally caught you, huh?”
Mirax leans against Han, “Why officer, I don’t know what you are talking about, we’re just here for our honeymoon.”
Han smirks as Corran visibly tenses, and Han has to stifle the urge to laugh aloud. He knows that in the past Corran and Mirax were an item, until Mirax became a smuggler after Hal sent her father to Kessel. Mirax doesn’t miss the tensing either, as she reaches out to touch Corran’s chin, then she bats her eyelids, though Han is not sure if she’s clearing her eyes from the rain or being coy. “What’s the matter CorSec? Having doubts about some of your life choices?”
Corran is about to open his mouth to reply, when one of the Coruscant Security Officers calls out. “There’s no contraband on board anywhere.”
Hal turns towards the Coruscant Officers, shock evident on his face. “Nowhere? Are you sure?”
Han once more tries his best to not laugh aloud, as they are told by Coruscant Security that they can leave at any time. He thanks them and then turns back to Hal and Corran, tossing them a sloppy salute. “See the two of you on Corellia.”
Smirking, he once more winds his arm around Mirax and they start up the ramp. As soon as the ramp has closed, Mirax is laughing, and Han drops onto the couch near the dejarik table. As Mirax lies down across him to kiss him, they are interrupted by Chewbacca.
[Honor brother, there is a Jedi trying to get in touch with you.]
“A Jedi?”
[Yes, it is Kyp]
Kissing Mirax’s nose, he looks into her eyes. “Wait right there.”
“I’m not promising anything, Solo.”
Han slides into the seat in front of the communication station, flicking it on, he sees the young man he rescued from Kessel. “How’re you doing, Kid?”
Kyp smiles at him. “I’m doing all right, all things considered with the war and all. But I have a favor to ask of you.”
“What’s that?”
“Luke wants to know if you’d be willing to pick a few Jedi up on Corellia and bring them back to Yavin 4.”
“Sure thing kid, an next time, tell Luke that he could try calling me himself.”
Kyp smiles at Han, chuckling slightly. “Thanks Han, and will do. Yavin out.”
Han leans back in his chair, as Mirax wraps her arms around him. “So we’re transporting people again.”
“Hey it didn’t go that bad last time.”
Mirax snorts and starts prepping the Falcon for flight.
The Running Snake, Coronet, Corellia
Han and Mirax are sitting at a booth, in the back of the bar; waiting for the Jedi they’re supposed to pick up to appear. As Han scans the crowd of unsavory beings around him, he wonders once more why someone would choose a half-sunken Drallian bar for a meeting point. Without warning, a boy, barely old enough to gain entrance to the bar, slides into the seat opposite them. Han looks him over, noting the chiseled jaw, and ice blue stare. The boy glances around once. “Are you Captain Solo?”
Mirax nods her head. “You the package?”
The boy grits his teeth. “My name is Anakin Organa, as the Chume’da of Hapes, one would expect you to not refer to me as a package.”
Han stiffens slightly at the boy’s name, a memory of old love, of old possibilities flicker through his mind, and tosses a few coins onto the table. “Come’on Kid, let’s get you out of here.”
As they leave the cantina, a hotel a few store fronts down from the bar they had just exited, explodes, tossing the three off of their feet. Han glances at the boy, and then Mirax, ensuring himself that everyone is all right. “Wonder what that was all about.”
The boy grimaces. “That was my lodging.”
Han glances at Mirax as she rolls her eyes. “I know; you have a bad feeling about this.”
Han paints a pained expression on his face, and turns to Anakin. “Women!”
The boy just stares at them both. “Can the banter end and we go now? It will not be long before the Peace Brigade realizes that I was not within the building.”
Han and Mirax look at him, and stand, leading him on towards the Falcon. As they near the landing bay, they start to hear a howling noise. Han looks first to Mirax, and then to Anakin, noting the look of terror painted on the boy’s face. Turning to the east, the direction the noise comes from, they see a couple of CorSec officers running towards them. Behind them and closing is a wolf-like animal, its six legs allowing it to quickly gain on the pair of fleeing officers.
Han frowns and whips out his blaster and starts taking shots at the strange beast. A second later Mirax’s blaster is adding bolts of coherent light in the direction of the animal. Han nails the beast in one of the legs, noticing that it reaches backwards to bite at its hind quarters where the bolt had hit it.
Without really expecting an answer, he asks, “What the kriff is that thing?”
“A voxyn.”
“What?”
“A Vong Jedi hunter.”
“Great.”
Finally enough of the coherent light has struck the beast that it stops moving, Han inches closer to it, noticing the way its blood seems to eat into the ferocrete of the walkway, as if it’s an acid. Frowning, he turns towards the CorSec officers he had just saved. Upon looking at the two leaning against the wall, their chests heaving from their exertions, he utters the first thing that comes to his mind. “Sithspit.”
Corran’s green eyes look up upon hearing the curse. “Well Solo, you did say you’d see us on Corellia.”
“Jeedai!”
Everyone in the group looks towards the new voice, noticing the Vong warrior in his glistening, pulsing armor. Han reaches behind him, and pulls out a small round sphere. “Okay everyone; get on the Falcon if you’re coming with me.”
No one argues, and starts running towards the ship, Han smiles and fiddles with the silver ball and then rolls it towards the Vong warrior. He turns and runs, as the Vong comes running towards them, stopping at the tamp, he glances back, a smirk touching his lips as the Vong steps over the small sphere. The explosion that ensues is enough to tear the warrior to pieces, and Han’s smirk turns into a feral grin. “Feel the pain, scarhead.”
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