I do not own Star Wars. Enjoy!

The Princess was leaning forward, elbows on the Dejarik table, hands on either side of her temples, expression earnest, eyes wide with an alarm Solo was not accustomed to seeing.

"Captain Solo." Her voice was low, as if she thought they might be overheard, despite the fact that Han had just turned the surround sound system to the sultry sounds of Barbellian Beatstick music, partially in demonstration of the new amp he had just installed, partly to cover the sounds of their voices and address her spoken doubts over whether or not the Falcon was a secure place to talk, and partly to try to unnerve her with the raw, unfettered music of a culture about as opposite from the royal courts of Alderaan as it was possible to get.

Leia wasn't even fazed.

"I trust that what I am about to say will go no further than this room."

Han slouched in his seat, mildly annoyed that he couldn't annoy her. "Anything, Your Worship," he drawled, fighting to avoid getting sucked into the serious atmosphere she projected. "I'm listening."

The Princess glanced around her one more time for good measure, folded her arms tightly together in front of her. "Just yesterday, the Alliance intercepted and decoded a level 4 encrypted communique between Darth Vader and the Emperor. There was an emergency meeting of High Command this morning." She lowered her voice. "The message is about Luke."

Solo blinked. "Luke?" He echoed, slightly louder than necessary. His volume seemed to pain the Princess, whose eyes widened perceptively. Han cleared his throat and tried again, voice barely above a whisper. "Why Luke?"

He frowned, trying to quickly slide the mental puzzle pieces together. It had been three months since the Alliance had found out about the bounty on Luke's head. The Empire had found out very quickly the name of the pilot who had fired the shot that destroyed the Death Star and had issued a bounty for the pilot's capture. That news alone wouldn't have been so surprising, but the bounty was for alive only, and the sum was astronomical-1 billion credits, more than the bounty on Mon Mothma, Leia, Cracken, and Rieekan combined.

"The Empire must really have its panties in a bunch about the Death Star and this price on Luke's head-"

"No Han, it's worse than that." Leia's features were pale. Solo could see the dark half-moons under her eyes. She was normally demanding and unflappable under fire. Something had obviously really rattled her. "This is classified. Not a single person outside High Command knows about this. Not even Luke. I could be court-martialed for telling you this. So listen very carefully."

Solo sat up a little straighter, more curious than alarmed. The doings of the Alliance concerned him only as far as the pay kept coming. He reminded himself that he cared only on a professional level. "Go ahead," he nodded.

"The communique between Vader and Palpatine refer twice to the progress on the capture of Luke Skywalker. Then there is a reference to Vader's 'son'.

Solo frowned. Vader? "You've lost me. He has a son?"

The Princess let out a short, humorless laugh, her expression unchanging. "Apparently. Though this is the first any of us have heard of it."

"And this has what to do with Luke?"

She pursed her lips. "The Emperor refers to the irony of Vader's son destroying the Death Star." Leia watched him expectantly, waiting for her words to sink it.

It didn't take long.

A wave of cold washed over Solo. "You mean Luke-"

"Is being referred to in a secret communique as Vader's son. Yes."

There had to be some sort of mistake. Some sort of setup. Did Old Yellow Eyes think he could drop information to the Alliance and they would believe whatever he fed them? There was no possible way Luke Skywalker, orphan farmboy from a backwater planet and Jedi wannabe who got a lucky shot at the Death Star, was the son of the most notorious villain in the galaxy. No possible way.

"But Luke's father is dead," he argued, wanting to speak to the logic, wanting to laugh at the creased expression on the Princess' face and the ludicrousness of the situation. "He's an orphan, a nobody."

"That's what he's told us, anyway," Leia interjected. "But he's not a nobody anymore. He's wanted by the Empire. A billion credits. Alive," she reminded him.

"Are you suggesting he's been lying all this time?" Han arched his eyebrows at her. Luke and the Princess were inseparable. She, of all people, ought to give him the benefit of the doubt. "That he's not who he told us he is?"

"No," she said firmly. "I am suggesting that he doesn't know anything about this."

Solo gained his feet, paced the meter-long space between the table and the corridor. "This is unbelievable," he said, running his hand through his hair. "How can you take something like this-something so ridiculous-at face value? How do you know that the Emperor isn't playing with you? He's dropping private messages and watching the fireworks display afterwards. How could Luke be Vader's son?"

"Keep your voice down!" Leia hissed at him. She splayed her fingers over the tabletop. "It makes sense, actually." Her voice was calm now, logical. "Of course, we still don't have all the information, but first there is the matter of Luke having Jedi powers, the same as Vader. Then, with a little digging, we found the name of Anakin Skywalker, Luke's father, who apparently died suspiciously about the time Vader appeared on the scene. Of course, none of that is actual proof, but short of getting a DNA test-"

"Which isn't likely," Solo snorted, regaining his seat.

"We can't know one-hundred percent that it is true." Her eyes met his, determined now. "Believe it or not, this isn't even the reason I'm telling you all of this."

Solo arched his eyebrows. "There's more?"

"Yes." Her voice dropped to its serious-business volume again. "High Command has lost its collective head over this. They realize that not only is Luke a target, but by harboring him, they risk endangering the entire Alliance.

"Furthermore," she continued just as Solo was about to speak, "Some members of Command have decided that Luke is actually a threat that needs to be dealt with."

Solo swallowed. "Dealt with?" he repeated. "Twelve months ago he saved all of them with the luckiest shot in the universe. What do you mean 'dealt with'?"

Her expression tightened. "Just that. His presence here now endangers everyone around him. They don't know for sure he is who he says he is and if he can be trusted. And finally, we're suddenly talking about the off-spring of Vader. Now they see either using Luke as a bargaining chip to get the Empire to comply to our wishes or as an embryonic version of the galaxy's most-feared villain who should be… 'dealt with'... before Vader can get to him first." She bit her lip. "Or both."

Han stared at her, stunned. In a moment, Luke's only friends and allies had just turned into his assassins.

"Has it occurred to them that their best chance against Vader may be for them to actually have the skills of a Jedi at their disposal?" Solo demanded. Never mind that he really didn't for a minute believe in any of that Force voodoo Luke and the old man Kenobi spouted.

"Yes," Leia sighed. "Rieekan and I both argued that point. But it didn't do any good."

"And that alienating their last Jedi could seriously backfire on them?"

"That point was made as well."

"That Luke-with his fatherless orphan complex-would not be able to resist the pull of being with his just-discovered father, no matter if that father is a war criminal. What would the Alliance do then?"

Leia's face paled. "Of course the Alliance has no intention of letting that happen."

"Really?" Solo shot back. "How do they intend to stop him?"

"By any means necessary."

"You mean…" Solo felt the blood drain from his face. Disgust curled in his stomach, followed by a heavy sense of dread as he realized what Leia was saying.

"The Alliance would execute their hero because of whose son he is?"

Leia's expression was set in stone. "They would make it look like an accident, most likely."

Solo tightened his hand into a fist. "And you're just going to let that happen-"

"I have no intention of letting that happen," Leia raised her own voice in spite of her previous warnings. "That's why I'm here talking to you. Han, can I trust you to help Luke?"

"What do you think?" Solo shot back testily. "Of course I would help the kid if I could. But what kind of magic do you think I'm capable of?"

"You can leave," Leia urged him. "Luke gets back this evening from his mission with Rogue Squadron. You and I can intercept him first, get him on the Falcon and you can leave tonight."

"You'll stay here?" Han queried. Sudden visions of the Princess facing a military tribunal flitted through his head. Why should you care so much, Solo? An inner voice demanded. You're still just here for hire.

"My strengths lie here," she insisted. "I can reason with them, talk Mon Mothma down. They can't deal with me too harshly. I control the funds from the Royal House of Alderaan. My financial backing is too significant for the Alliance to lose and they know it."

Han was skeptical, but let it drop. "So what do I do with the kid? Just fly around and hope nobody recognizes a ship and its pilot wanted by Jabba, or a farmkid wanted by both the Empire and the Alliance?"

"I can provide you with funds…"

"I'd expect nothing less, Princess," Han shot back cooly. "But I think you overestimate how big the galaxy actually is."

"Do you have a better idea?" She retorted. "There are plenty of backwater planets where you can lie low for a bit."

That list of backwater planets was going through his mind now and it was shorter than Han wanted to admit. What was he doing being so stupid? He should have left the Rebels months ago to pay off Jabba. Only someone with a death wish would take this job.

"You know Luke's not going to come quietly," he said instead. "He's going to fall apart over this 'father' business, want to know more, open his big yap, want to defend himself to High Command, and get himself thrown in the brig before bedtime."

"Than we don't tell him," Leia replied. "The less he knows right now, the better."

It turned out to be kind of a trick to get Luke where they wanted him.

The squadron flew in to the hangar bay around sunset. If Han hadn't been looking for them, he might have missed the MPs grouped casually near one end of the hangar, unobtrusive in their wait for Rogue Squadron to return, with their pale blue uniforms and standard-issue blasters. Leia stood off to one side, deliberately not too near Han, watching carefully for Luke's X-wing. Chewie was in the Falcon in the neighboring hangar, doing his own casual pre-flight systems check, hopefully not calling any attention to himself or the ship.

The trick would be to get Luke away from the MPs without causing any suspicion.

Solo eyed the third snub fighter to the left as it docked and settled down to the floor of the bay. It was immediately surrounded by fuel droids and mech techs pushing a ladder to the side of the cockpit. The canopy rose steadily to reveal a helmeted pilot in an orange jumpsuit. The pilot removed his helmet and shook his tousled hair free, flashed a tired smile to one of the techs, and started down the ladder.

Leia set forward. In the distance, Solo could see the MPs making their move too. They would want to avoid making a scene, Han knew. In fact, he was counting on it.

The princess greeted Luke at the bottom of the ladder with a careful hug. She was speaking to him while Luke glanced over to make sure Artoo made it to the ground without mishap. Han stepped forward to greet his friend.

"Hey kid," he lifted a hand in a casual wave. "Long trip?"

Luke nodded tiredly. "Hey Han." He looked back to the Princess. "Leia tells me you're leaving tonight?"

"'Fraid so," Han pursed his lips. Out of the corner of his eye, the lead MP stepped into their circle.

"I didn't know. How long?" Luke's expression looked irritated. Han decided this had to do with the "you're abandoning the Alliance" discussion Luke liked to have with him every so often.

"Few weeks probably." Han studiously ignored the MP, a short stocky man with straw-colored hair, and jammed his hands in his pockets.

There was a pause until Luke couldn't help but follow with, "But you're coming back, right?"

Maybe not.

"Planning on it," Han grunted, turning now to acknowledge the MP. "Looks like you have a whole bunch of friends waiting to get your autograph." He stepped back, nodding to the shorter man.

Luke looked in askance to the MP, eyebrows raised. "Yes?" he asked, surprised. "Is something wrong?"

"Captain Marl Trebarik," the man introduced himself. "No trouble sir. But if you will follow me, we need to proceed to the debriefing and a few questions."

Luke frowned. "I usually stay with my squadron and we debrief with…."

"Change in orders sir," Trebarik clipped. "If you will follow me…?"

Leia's dark eyes met Han's. It was showtime. "Well, kid, this is goodbye for a few weeks. Chewie wanted to say bye himself, but he's on the Falcon, and it looks like you're a little bit busy here, so…"

The bait worked. Luke set his helmet on the middle rung of the ladder, turned back to Trebarik. "I….will you excuse me for a minute? I'm happy to come with you, but I need to say goodbye to

Chewie."

"Sir," Trebarik intoned in his low voice. "I have my orders to have you report immediately."

Luke nodded amiably, but started walking toward Han. "I understand you're just doing your job, Captain. This will only take a few minutes." Luke started forward.

With little other choice if he didn't want to cause a scene, the MP followed, scowling. Luke, who had caught up with Solo, unzipping his flightsuit to the waist and knotting the sleeves, as was habit of all the pilots, did not miss that two more MPs fell in line behind him. "What's going on?" He murmured to Han.

Solo shrugged. "They seem kind of jumpy tonight, don't they?"

The young man regarded Solo for a minute before dropping his gaze to the floor. Maybe he detected that Han also seemed unusually jumpy.

Han's ears caught the familiar pre-flight whine of the engines before he was in sight of the Falcon. "Chewie?" He called as they approached the ramp. The trick was going to be to get Luke on board the ship, while keeping Trebarik and his men off, without setting off anyone's suspicions.

He turned to the MP. "Come on board. Wookiees aren't usually too aggressive, unless they get caught by surprise, right Luke?" The young man was already headed up the ramp, laughing at that old joke.

"Then they might tear your arms off!"

"On second thought," Han added, seeing Trebarik's hesitation. "Let me just warn him first that you're coming. Princess?"

Leia folded her arms across her chest. "I'll stay right here, thanks." He gave her a half-nod/half-salute that they both knew was goodbye/good luck/don't get yourself killed, and turned a sheepish look toward Trebarik. "Give me just a minute to talk the Wook down, Captain." He started up the ramp, noticing the conflicting emotions on the man's face-the desire to follow orders with the desire for self-preservation.

Leia provided the remaining distraction, turning the Grateful-Princess routine on the MP just long enough to engage the man in conversation and let Han round the corner at the top of the ramp, out of sight.

He sprang into action, slapping the ramp controls and bolted down the corridor to the cockpit. "Chewie, now!" He bellowed.

A roar from the cockpit in acknowledgement, the distant hiss of thrusters and the ship lifted. There were shouts from the hangar bay and the sound of a klaxon, immediately cut short as the ramp sealed. Midway to the cockpit, the second obstacle of the day stood, eyes wide with alarm, one hand grasping a hand-hold along the bulkhead, the other hand resting warily on his….lightsaber? Did Luke think he was about to dispense justice with that thing? "Han!" His voice was sharp. "What are you two doing? You haven't received clearance yet!"

"Out of my way, kid." Solo pushed past him roughly, dropped into the pilot's seat. Below the viewport, the MPs were scrambling like pittins to get out of the way, the strobe flash of the alarm lighting a trail behind his closed lids as he blinked. Here goes nothing. "Chewie, punch it before they seal off the bay!" Already he could see the large blast doors making their slow descent from the top of the hangar.

"Han!" Luke's voice rose in pitch as the young man scrambled to avoid being thrown against the nearest bulkhead and get purchase on the passenger seat behind. "What are you doing?! Have you lost your mind?"

"Sit down and shut up!" Solo bellowed, yanking the throttle up. The Falcon shot past the bay doors with meters to spare, out past the windswept wasteland of Melsinor VIII, the Alliance's latest excuse for a base. Thanks to this stunt, he imagined the Rebels would pull out within the week. Leia was about to find herself in very hot water. "Buckle up if you don't want your brains splattered all over the cockpit!"

The com crackled to life. "Millennium Falcon," an alarmed voice intoned. "You are not authorized to leave the base. Return to bay seven immediately or be fired upon."

With a yelp, Luke made a dive for the com. "Base Two, this is Commander Lu-"

Solo slapped the com off and shoved Luke out of the way. "No one touches my ship but me, kid! Sit down!"

"Are you crazy?" Luke cried again. "They're going to fire on us!"

As if on cue, a green flash shot out from one of the mounted gun turrets. Then another one that somehow scored an indirect hit, jolting its passengers.

"Chewie, shields!" Han snapped. They were gunning for deep-space now. The navicomp already had their calculations for their jump. If they could just avoid the watchdog tugboats he knew waited on the horizon line, as well as the squad of B-wings swarming like insects around it.

Chewie let out a roar. Luke, blast him, was determined to be a pain in the neck. He dove for the com again. "Base Two, this is-"

He didn't get to finish that sentence. Han had grasped the controls with his left hand, palmed his blaster with his right, just as Luke had bolted from his chair. The blue stun beam collapsed the young man over the console before he could finish identifying himself. Luke slid in a sigh of neoprene flight suit to the floor, lying awkwardly in unconsciousness between the pilot and co-pilot's seats.

Han grimaced. This wasn't exactly how he had planned for this to go down. Chewie growled a protest.

"Hey, it's not my fault he wouldn't shut up!" Han snapped, his eyes on the console. There were two B-wings coming up behind. "Give all power to the rear shields. I don't want to have to shoot our way out." The navicomp indicated one minute until hyperspace.

"Millennium Falcon," cackled the com again. Han slapped it off. In the distance the edge of Melsinor's star was peeking out from behind the planet. Past it was the deep cold of space. Clear skies. The B-wings were always slow-nothing to worry about.

The navicomputer beeped, the light flashed green.

"Punch it!" Han shouted. Chewie pulled back on the hyperspace levers and the stars streaked blue.

They were out.