Chapter Text
“500 for cold-weather thrusters? You're out of your mind.” Leia Organa glared at the merchant, but the Toydarian blinked his yellow eyes and spread his hands in a rough approximation of a shrug. “I need thirty of them,” she snapped. “Can't you give me a discount for buying bulk?”
“You call that bulk? Buy twice that and I'll give you...five percent off each thruster. A good deal, eh? You won't find better.”
Leia knew this was probably not true, but this part of Ord Mantell was a virtual carnival of parts supplies and shipyard merchants. Comparison shopping would take time that she simply didn't have. She was due to rendezvous with Han Solo and Chewbacca at the Millennium Falcon within the hour, no matter how desperately new thrusters were needed at the Alliance base on Hoth.
“You don't want to buy thrusters here.”
She turned, startled by the the man's voice and proximity. She mentally chastised herself for not being more alert as she gave him a closer inspection. He was average height, roughly good-looking, and wore unremarkable clothing. There was also something vaguely familiar about him, something she couldn't put her finger on. Her stomach tightened with fear. “Do I know you?”
“Don't think so. One of those faces, or so I've been told.” He smiled at her, and she relaxed a little.
“So why don't I want to buy thrusters here?”
“Hey now, who asked you?” The Toydarian grumbled. “The lady and I were still bargaining.”
“Thrusters are recycled from trashed speeders. If your speeders are a few years old, you should go to the junkyards first.”
“That's a good tip,” she replied, a little abashed that she hadn't thought it of it herself. “Any particular junkyard you'd recommend?”
“One or two. Depends on your price range.”
“Hey, hey!” The merchant fluttered into their path, agitated by the man's interference. “What's the big idea? You work for some junkyard maybe, eh? It's against the law to conduct business in a competitor's shop. I'll have you jailed.”
The man was armed, like every other person on these streets, but he made no move towards his blaster. Instead he looked the merchant in the eye and spoke in a quiet, menacing tone. “Move.”
The Toydarian's wings gave two furious flaps, and then he seemed to decide it wasn't worth it.“Ahhh,” he snarled as he backed away. “Get out of my shop, you clone scum.”
Sensing that her own welcome was wearing thin, Leia hastily followed the man out into the crowded street. A clone. He looked so...normal.
His eyes cut over to her, knowingly, it seemed to Leia. As if he was expecting her to say something. She held his gaze and raised her eyebrows questioningly. “So...do you work for a junkyard?”
She could see the smile in his eyes a full two seconds before his mouth twitched in response. “No.” He looked her over thoughtfully. “Thirty cold-weather thrusters, was it?”
Leia always dressed with a purpose, and she had carefully constructed this outfit to help her blend in. She wore a worn leather vest over a sleeveless shirt, tight black pants and thick, no-nonsense boots. Her own blaster was holstered to her thigh and her hair was drawn up into a long ponytail that hung down her back.
She had especially enjoyed Captain Solo's not-so-subtle double take when he saw her.
“Heading to a snow world next?”
“Oh, you know,” she replied with affected carelessness. “If I told you, I'd have to kill you.”
That seemed to amuse him. “Smuggler?”
“Who's asking?” She replied, wishing that Han Solo was here to see this.
“Not a smuggler.” He smiled at her again, friendly and a little flirtatious. “I'm a pilot. Maybe I could help you find your thrusters.”
“For a percentage?”
“For a drink.” He jerked his head in the direction of a cantina across the street, it's neon sign still unlit. “Have a drink with me, and I'll tell you where you can find your parts.”
As nice as he seemed, going into a seedy bar with a stranger went strongly against her suspicious nature. “I'm not really thirsty.”
“Neither am I,” he shrugged. “It's an excuse to talk thrusters with a pretty girl.”
Leia arched her eyebrows, bemused. “You're very direct, aren't you?”
“Is that a problem?”
“Not necessarily.” There was a challenge in his eyes, and Leia began to reconsider. He just a lonely pilot trying to pick her up. What was the harm in a little flirting, if it yielded good intel? “One drink,” she countered firmly, putting her hands on her hips. “And you'd better not be wasting my time.”
“I wouldn't think of it.” He smiled at her again.
It was a good smile, Leia thought. A little cocky. A little playful. The Alliance needed those thrusters, and she could handle herself.
The bar was typical of Ord Mantell, dark, dirty and crowded. The pilot guided her through the gloom to the far side of the bar, and the Besalisk bartender lumbered over to take their drink orders.
“I'm not much of a drinker,” Leia said to him. “Do you have anything here that won't render me useless?”
The Besalisk flapped his jowls and said something that sounded like “Murrghack?”
“Two harbing'rr, no jolt.” the pilot turned towards her as the bartender moved away. “I see someone warned you about the drinks here.”
“Oh, you know the stories that get passed around. A Hutt walks into a bar on Ord Mantell, and so forth.”
“I've never heard that one.”
“Really?” She tried to keep one eye on the bartender as she talked, but she couldn't identify the bottles he was shuffling between his four hands. “All right, so a Hutt walks into a bar on Ord Mantell and asks for the strongest drink in the house. The bartender gives it to him, and the Hutt takes one sip and falls over dead. Then the bartender says-”
Two cups were set in front of them, and Leia paused to examine the dark liquid before taking a cautious sip. “That's good,” she said in surprise. “What is this, some kind of cider?”
“I think so. I'm not much of a drinker either.”
“That's sort of unusual for a pilot, isn't it?” She smiled at him over the rim of her glass. “I'm guessing you don't fly one of those big casino cruisers.”
“No, cargo transport. Used to contract out for the Empire, but I got laid off.” He made a dismissive gesture. “Damn Imps.”
Leia held up her cup as if giving a toast. “Damn Imps."
“Transport is a boring job anyway.” Her left hand was resting on the bar, and he put his hand over hers. His skin was a few shades darker than hers, and her own hand looked very pale and small by comparison. “Not really interesting to talk about. I'd rather hear about you,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of her hand. “You like your job?”
His touch was distracting her from her purpose. “Or we could talk about thrusters."
“We could.” His fingers curled around her hand and turned it up, his fingertips smoothing across her palm and brushing over her wrist. The way he looked at her suggested that he could feel her racing pulse.
Leia decided she'd better not drink any more. The bar suddenly felt very warm, and she knew her cheeks were flushed. What time was it? Han might come looking for her if she was out too long. He might find her here, flirting with a stranger. He might actually be jealous.
“Thirty thruster replacements is a big job,” the pilot said, leaning towards her. “Maybe you could use some help on your secret snow world.”
Startled and a little flustered, she scrambled for a suitable response. “Uh. You're a pilot and a mechanic?”
“I've done a little bit of everything,” he said, his fingers moving up the inside her of bare arm. “But I need to know where I'm headed.”
Leia looked down at his hand and felt confused. She really wasn't sure if he was applying for a job, or after something else entirely. She raised her eyes and caught his intent gaze. “You're not going to tell me,” he said, less a question and more a statement.
“I told you I can't-”
“You look warm,” he said abruptly, tossing a credit chip on the bar. “You want to go?”
Leia hesitated, unsure if she had just been propositioned. “Go where?”
“Out there,” he waved towards the back door. “We could take a walk.”
“Sure.”
He took her hand and guided her through the crowd to the exit. The air felt cool and refreshing after the stuffy cantina. It was getting dark, the sky had a purple tinge to it as the city's neon lights began to come alive. She looked around and realized they were in a dead-end alley, vacant except for a few trash bins.
“Thank you for the drink,” she said politely, “but I really should be on my way. If you have the names of those-” she took a step back, intending to pull her hand away, but he came to her instead. There was a rough brick wall at her back and his hand moved up her arm as he moved closer. This was a terrible idea. She shouldn't be alone in a back alley on Ord Mantell, contemplating kissing a complete stranger.
And yet, she wanted to. Even without a planet she was still a princess, and a high-ranking member of the Rebel Alliance. The casual relationships that others found respite in were complicated by her position of authority. She was well aware that some considered her to be a snob, or whispered that she was a virgin. The truth was far less sensational. It was just too much trouble to be worth it.
Would it really be so wrong to have one little planet-side fling before she was freezing her ass off on Hoth with her stature and reputation and the irritating presence of a certain smuggler?
“I'm going to be direct again,” the pilot said in a low voice. His hand was warm on her arm, and Leia spared a moment of regret for all the things she couldn't have.
“I'm really not that kind of girl,” she blurted, and then winced at how corny it sounded. “What I mean is-”
“I know who you are.” His emotionless tone cut through her like a knife. “And I know who you're here with.”
Leia jerked back, realizing too late that she was trapped against the wall. Her blaster was on her right side and he was holding her right arm. Considering how little space there was between them, she couldn't exactly reach across her body with her left hand unnoticed.
“Don't try anything stupid,” he said. “I'm not going to hurt you.”
She didn't believe him for a second. “What do you want?”
“I want you to give Captain Solo a message for me.”
He wasn't here for her. He was after Han. Leia felt relieved and then guilty. He adjusted his grip on her arm, twisting it just enough to make her fear that this message might involve broken bones. “A message?” she said when she could trust herself to talk. “From who?”
“I'll write it down for you." He produced a soft-tipped marker from his pocket and drew a curving line on the inside of her arm, just below her elbow. It tickled, and Leia squirmed.
“Hold still."
“Why can't you give him the damn message yourself?” She said through gritted teeth. “Unless you're afraid of him.”
He glanced up at her, a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. “Like you, I don't like to have my time wasted. The price on Solo's head hasn't been high enough to make it worth my while, but my employer is getting impatient. Tell Captain Solo that if doesn't return to Tatooine immediately to pay off his debt to Jabba the Hutt, he can kiss his new life goodbye."
He blew lightly on her skin to dry the ink, and she couldn't suppress a shiver. The image he had drawn was upside down to Leia, but it looked like some kind of long skull with downward curving horns. “Don't let it smudge. That wouldn't do Captain Solo any good."
“You're a bounty hunter,” Leia said, infusing the words with as much disgust as possible.
“That's right, Your Highness.” He held her gaze. “The junkyards near the Mantellian Transit Service should have your thrusters for a better price. Try the Bothans first. They're known to be Alliance friendly.”
She stared at him, wondering if he actually expected gratitude after all that.
He dropped her arm and took a step back. Leia pushed off the brick wall and took a careful step towards the mouth of alley. He made no move to stop her.
She wanted to run, but forced herself instead to walk briskly out into the street. When she was sure she wasn't being followed, she stopped for a second and put her hand over her racing heart. It only reminded her of the mark, and she shuddered, wanting to scrub the image off her skin with the strongest possible cleaning solution. But she couldn't. Not yet.
As soon as she was aboard the Falcon she strode up to Han Solo and shoved him hard. “Why didn't you tell me you were in debt to a Hutt you stupid nerf-herder!”
“Hey, hey Princess,” The smuggler backed away, his hands raised. Then he caught sight of her arm. “Wait. What the hell is this?”
She heard the edge in his voice, and it only confirmed what she already knew. “Some bounty hunter cornered me and told me to give you a message. If you don't pay off Jabba the Hutt he's coming after you. And then he drew this on me. Who is he?”
Chewbacca growled deep in his throat, and Han nodded to his first mate. “Yeah. Me too.”
Leia grabbed the lapels of his vest, too rattled to bear the suspense. “Han. Who is he?"
“You ever heard of Boba Fett?"
"Yes, but-"
"He has the same symbol on his armor.”
She was no stranger to dangerous men or dangerous situations, but thought that she'd been sitting in a bar holding hands with the infamous Mandalorian bounty hunter made her feel sick. “I'm going to wash this off right now,” she vowed. “There have to be easier ways to send a message.”
“He's making a point,” Han replied grimly. “He knows who I'm with now.”
“What are you going to do?” Before he could answer, she rushed ahead. “He'll never find you on Hoth, if you stay hidden-”
“Yeah. We'll see.”
She didn't like his tone. Leia was aware that no one ever quit working for gangsters like Jabba the Hutt. There would always be one more job, one last deal to make. Or Jabba might just decide to kill him as a warning to the others. “Don't go back there,” she said. “It's not safe.”
He smiled. A warm, crooked grin that made her heart beat faster. “Easy Your Worship, I'll start to think you care.”
Leia looked away. “The Alliance needs you.”
“Hey,” he tipped up her chin with two fingers, drawing her eyes back to his. “I'm not going anywhere right now.”
For a second she thought he was going to kiss her, and she wanted him to. Then Chewie made an anxious noise and Han looked away, the spell broken. “I know pal, I know. We'll figure something out.”