[Taking his hand, she pulls him inside. Once the door is shut, at least there's no one within the room itself to see her bury her face in his chest.
It's only with Han (or Luke, but he isn't here) that she's willing to let go some of her defenses on the subject of planets destroyed. There's a certain measure of grief that she can allow herself when talking with strangers, but it ends with sad-eyed expressions and somber tones. The veneer of privacy is required before she can cling to someone else, and even then, she squeezes her eyes shut against the prickle of tears she has no intention of shedding.]
It was called Caducus Primary. [Mumbled into his shirt.]
[He hasn't heard that much about what happened, but he doesn't need to. It's enough to know what they did, that there was a world and now there isn't, to know that Leia won't take it well. When she leans against him he wraps his arms around her easily, cheek resting against her hair, holding her close. No one should be able to take this lightly, but Han knows better than most what she remembers. And even then, seeing the aftermath isn't the same as sharing the loss.]
Someone mentioned it.
[Only just barely. Well, he's heard about it elsewhere, too, but only the slightest hints of what went wrong.]
[There's an edge to her voice, but it's not directed solely at Han. Leia can think of plenty of reasons he might not want to be the one to have to say, Did you hear about what happened a few planet stops ago?
She's filled with impotent fury about so much: Alderaan, Caducus Primary, the perpetrator of the latter sharing a ship with them, the potential for future destruction here or at home.
For three years, she's spent her life trying to ensure no one else would ever suffer her loss, and it hasn't mattered at all. All the magical thinking she told herself was reasonable under the circumstances (if I just work a little longer tonight, it'll make a difference) doesn't change a thing. While she was preventing another Alderaan, it was happening anyway.
She's been trapped aboard a ship in an unknown galaxy and separated from her work by a chasm of millions or billions of light years, but it takes a polished lump of glass to make her feel like she's lost control of her life. And she hates it.]
I didn't want to until I knew something worth saying. Some details.
[As it is, they accidentally destroyed a planet sounds even worse. Bad enough that Alderaan was a casualty of war and hate, the thought of all those lives-- millions? more?-- snuffed out due to carelessness, it's unthinkable. She's angry, but not enough to shove him away for having held his tongue.
[He made the right choice, and even if she's angry, she can't fault him. She'd have demanded information he couldn't give her, and things might well have been uglier. At least this way, it's over and done with.]
One man did it. [There's silence, and it isn't comfortable, her hands clenching tight at the fabric of Han's shirt.] He's the one who told me.
[Those details take him by surprise. How one man could do that... brows knit, he looks down at her as best he can, rubs slow circles on her shoulder though he doesn't expect it'll do much to take the tension away. One man's command was enough for Alderaan, but that's different... though he's certain the thought has occurred to her.]
[His expression is fairly stoic, but she should know better than anyone that it doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. That's just how he is. He settles his hand on her shoulder.]
That doesn't sound so accidental.
[uncertain, his mouth twists into a frown.]
How come no one's come after the ship?
[There's always someone left, some poor soul off world who comes back to find nothing. The two of them know more about that than anyone should. Han is worried because they might get caught up in it, but he's oddly bothered at the apparent lack of consequences.]
He meant it literally. Some kind of...transformation, I think. [She still finds it dubious as an excuse, and she doesn't bother hiding it. Han will understand, if anyone will. Her hands are unclenching as she speaks, coming to rest at the small of his back, even if the rest of her is stiff and unyielding still.
His question is a good one, but it's not one she has an answer for. If they were my people, I would have.]
I don't know. [Her thoughts drift to the sky whales below, on Ceta, though she can't explain why.] Maybe they didn't have the resources.
[It's hard to say, not having seen any of it, knowing as little as they do. It takes a certain kind of zeal-- or maybe just having nothing to lose-- to embolden someone to go up against a force that can destroy a planet. Accidentally or otherwise.
He's got a bad feeling about it, no matter which way he looks at it.]
[Another question she doesn't have a satisfactory answer to. There's no returning Caducus Primary to its former glory. The man who committed the crime isn't likely to pay for it more than he already has.]
Keep it from happening again, I guess. [She sighs.] I don't like the situation, but our options are limited.
[If he had any idea how to get home from here, they'd already be on a ship. Although the range thing is another good point. One more thing to consider if they end up trying it.
That last bit, though, gets a broad, crooked smile from him. Han runs his thumb over her cheek.]
[Their access to fuel at this point seems pretty questionable to her. If the other planets in this area are comparable to Ceta, they're going to have a hard time refueling, let alone picking up additional food and other supplies. This is a problem that's going to take time to solve, unfortunately.
Leia doesn't smile, but her expression grows softer around the edges. One hand comes up to rest over his heart, an old familiar gesture.]
[It's a problem he's been devoting a lot of his attention to. The Corellian girl in the engine and that man on the junk moon had both made some implications, and though he's not committing to anything the idea is worth kicking around. At least the notion of escape is a distraction from the futility of staying.
He folds his hand over hers, palm rough and warm, and shakes his head. Nothing important.]
[Probably not, she's guessing, but she's curious nonetheless. And now that she's vented her spleen, Leia'd like to talk about something other than the death of millions.]
[Of course that's what he's been looking for. He gives her a wry smile.]
There's a Corellian working in the engine room.
[In case they haven't met, yet. It's hard to keep track of who's who on this ship. Mainly that's worth noting because it means she's probably their tech expert so far.]
She told me she was Alderaanian. [People from different planets meet, certainly, but her first inclination is to wonder if they're being played. But what would the point be?]
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Outside the gardens. Where are you?
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[Not with that twisted glass with its visions of past and future waiting for her.
She hurries back down to Mero Deck, heading straight to their rooms and keeping her eyes peeled for Han.]
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Han gets there just a couple of moments after, opening his door for her wordlessly.]
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It's only with Han (or Luke, but he isn't here) that she's willing to let go some of her defenses on the subject of planets destroyed. There's a certain measure of grief that she can allow herself when talking with strangers, but it ends with sad-eyed expressions and somber tones. The veneer of privacy is required before she can cling to someone else, and even then, she squeezes her eyes shut against the prickle of tears she has no intention of shedding.]
It was called Caducus Primary. [Mumbled into his shirt.]
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Someone mentioned it.
[Only just barely. Well, he's heard about it elsewhere, too, but only the slightest hints of what went wrong.]
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[There's an edge to her voice, but it's not directed solely at Han. Leia can think of plenty of reasons he might not want to be the one to have to say, Did you hear about what happened a few planet stops ago?
She's filled with impotent fury about so much: Alderaan, Caducus Primary, the perpetrator of the latter sharing a ship with them, the potential for future destruction here or at home.
For three years, she's spent her life trying to ensure no one else would ever suffer her loss, and it hasn't mattered at all. All the magical thinking she told herself was reasonable under the circumstances (if I just work a little longer tonight, it'll make a difference) doesn't change a thing. While she was preventing another Alderaan, it was happening anyway.
She's been trapped aboard a ship in an unknown galaxy and separated from her work by a chasm of millions or billions of light years, but it takes a polished lump of glass to make her feel like she's lost control of her life. And she hates it.]
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[As it is, they accidentally destroyed a planet sounds even worse. Bad enough that Alderaan was a casualty of war and hate, the thought of all those lives-- millions? more?-- snuffed out due to carelessness, it's unthinkable. She's angry, but not enough to shove him away for having held his tongue.
There's nothing to say or do to help this.]
What did you hear?
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[He made the right choice, and even if she's angry, she can't fault him. She'd have demanded information he couldn't give her, and things might well have been uglier. At least this way, it's over and done with.]
One man did it. [There's silence, and it isn't comfortable, her hands clenching tight at the fabric of Han's shirt.] He's the one who told me.
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[Those details take him by surprise. How one man could do that... brows knit, he looks down at her as best he can, rubs slow circles on her shoulder though he doesn't expect it'll do much to take the tension away. One man's command was enough for Alderaan, but that's different... though he's certain the thought has occurred to her.]
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[She can recognize that the man in question is no Tarkin, at least. Cold comfort, when it comes down to it.]
He's...[Leia pauses.]...He described it as a monster inside him. He couldn't control himself.
[She scoffs, venomous, at the memory. Her shoulders are still rigid under Han's touch, but she lifts her head to look up at him.]
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That doesn't sound so accidental.
[uncertain, his mouth twists into a frown.]
How come no one's come after the ship?
[There's always someone left, some poor soul off world who comes back to find nothing. The two of them know more about that than anyone should. Han is worried because they might get caught up in it, but he's oddly bothered at the apparent lack of consequences.]
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His question is a good one, but it's not one she has an answer for. If they were my people, I would have.]
I don't know. [Her thoughts drift to the sky whales below, on Ceta, though she can't explain why.] Maybe they didn't have the resources.
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[It's hard to say, not having seen any of it, knowing as little as they do. It takes a certain kind of zeal-- or maybe just having nothing to lose-- to embolden someone to go up against a force that can destroy a planet. Accidentally or otherwise.
He's got a bad feeling about it, no matter which way he looks at it.]
So what do we do?
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Keep it from happening again, I guess. [She sighs.] I don't like the situation, but our options are limited.
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We could try to leave, but I'm not sure there's anywhere to go.
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[And who knows how far away they are from the place Caducus Primary was? If they're going to leave, she'd rather it be to their own galaxy.]
We're stuck here, at least for now. [She's quiet a moment before she adds, a little tentative:] You're the best part of this entire mess, you know.
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That last bit, though, gets a broad, crooked smile from him. Han runs his thumb over her cheek.]
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Leia doesn't smile, but her expression grows softer around the edges. One hand comes up to rest over his heart, an old familiar gesture.]
If you were in the middle of something...
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He folds his hand over hers, palm rough and warm, and shakes his head. Nothing important.]
Exploring, mostly.
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[Probably not, she's guessing, but she's curious nonetheless. And now that she's vented her spleen, Leia'd like to talk about something other than the death of millions.]
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[Of course that's what he's been looking for. He gives her a wry smile.]
There's a Corellian working in the engine room.
[In case they haven't met, yet. It's hard to keep track of who's who on this ship. Mainly that's worth noting because it means she's probably their tech expert so far.]
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[Even if they aren't already acquainted, that's one more person with an interest in getting back to their galaxy. And that seems valuable.]
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A girl named Maya. I don't think she's been here that long.
[But, that's a month or so she has on them. Plus access to the engines.]
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[Leia's mouth purses.]
She told me she was Alderaanian. [People from different planets meet, certainly, but her first inclination is to wonder if they're being played. But what would the point be?]
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