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Han stepped out of the shuttle and immediately had to fight the urge to cover his ears. The noise was deafening, and it seemed that the whole of Corellia had squeezed itself into the plaza just to burst Han’s eardrums. He heard Governor-General Marcha of Drall say something about boring politicians: a view that seemed to match Han’s own.
When the Drall had finished, Leia smiled at him.
Let the party begin," she said.
Oh, great, thought Han. Five course meal, politicians, and speeches...just my idea of fun.
His wife looked at him.
"Han, relax. It can’t be that bad. Besides, you might meet up with one of your old acquaintances."
"Hey, I hate it when you do that."
"Do what?" Leia asked.
"Read my mind with the Force." When he saw her most mystified look stamped on her face, he carried on. "You know, that hokey-kokey religion thing Luke keeps going on about."
Leia grinned widely.
"Oh, that’s not the Force, that’s just my feminine intuition."
"Your feminine intuition? Sure. Anyway, most of my old friends wouldn’t come near here with all these officials even if they had a cloaking device and one of Admiral Drayson’s fake I.D.’s. And even if they did come, they probably wouldn’t touch me with a ten metre sceptre of power, seeing as I’ve become," he grimaced, "respectable."
"You never know," replied Leia. There might be a couple of fighter jocks to talk to."
"Yeah, probably," he conceded. "Still, I really wish I had a set of those holo-projectors the twins are running around with on me. You know," he added, "those ones that make your eyes look open when you’re asleep."
"You’d need a sound sponge as well," quipped his wife.
"Why?"
Leia put on a deadpan expression that most sabacc players would have envied.
"For when you snore of course. People might just want to be able to hear what the person sitting next to them is saying."
"What? Me?" Han put on his most hurt, ‘I-never-did-nothing’ expression. "Me? I’d never do a thing like that. I have never, not even once in all my years of nocturnal surveillance, ever heard myself snore. Not one single, solitary time. Not even-"
"General Solo," interrupted Garm Bel Iblis. "Shut up. That is a direct order."
"Thanks, Garm. You just saved me a lot of trouble," said Leia, nodding at the older man, who smiled back at her.
"Hey, I was Senatoring for Corellia before you were even born, so I think I should know how to tell rogues like him what to do." His blue eyes twinkled. "Besides, being able to give orders to people that really annoy them is the reason I’m a Senior General. You should really give it a go. It’s great fun."
"I’ll bear that in mind," Leia replied and then smiled sweetly at her husband.
"We’d better go in. We wouldn’t want to miss the party, would we?"
Han scowled.
*****
Han plonked himself down unceremoniously down in a chair. He’d been dancing with Leia for what seemed like hours and he was really starting to get, as Anakin would put it, bored.
The small round tables were scattered liberally around the dance floor in the centre of the room. In the middle of each table there was a selection of drinks. He gestured to the table's only other occupant, a silver haired man with blue green eyes that seemed very familiar. The older man smiled slightly and passed Han the decanter of Whyren’s Reserve.
Han frowned. How did he know what I wanted? Han mused as he poured himself a shot of the spicy drink. Raising the glass to his lips, Han swallowed a mouthful of whisky and glanced at the other man. He almost spat it out again in shock. I knew I’d seen him before. Han cleared his throat.
"Renn?" he asked tentatively. "Renn Tharen?" Renn nodded.
"You’re right."
"What happened to you after, you, well uh..." Han’s throat went dry. "Well, when you got my message. About Bria."
Renn Tharen smiled slowly.
"Scera was so stricken with grief at her daughter’s death that she lost the will to live. She finally realised how badly she had wronged Bria.
"I, well, I don’t know what happened to me. But I can tell you one thing. When I heard about the Death Star’s destruction, I knew that my daughter’s death hadn’t been in vain. Although it didn’t stop the hurting, it dulled the pain, knowing that her sacrifice had saved countless others.
"After that, well, I went into early retirement, about the time you were running around on Endor. I gave the business to Pavik, my son."
Han remembered Pavik. He had disliked Han almost as much as his mother, and had turned him over to Inspector Hal Horn of Corsec.
"When Governor-General Marcha was appointed, the government needed a new Minister of Trade; so here I am."
Han looked at him.
"Do you have any influence within the Trade Council?" he asked.
The older man’s eyes twinkled.
"Officially, I’m supposed to, but I’ve got no real power. I just get handed the agendas and minutes and have to do the paperwork. Unofficially, I do. As I said, Pavik owns the company now, and he’s got a seat on the council. I think that he feels that he wronged you all those years ago, and that helping you now might help set it right."
Han grinned. Leia was right: I have found an old acquaintance.
"Could you ask him a favour for me then?" he requested.
"Most certainly," said Renn. "Fire away."
"Right. I’ve got a Captain in Rogue Squadron, Gavin Darklighter, and he’s been appointed the go-between for the traders and the fleet. He’s getting a bit of help from his squadmates, but I figured it might be good if-"
"He had some help on the inside so he doesn’t get swamped," he interjected. "I know that Tatooine farmboys can get a little intimidated by Corellian traders when they first meet them." He winked at Han, who gave the old man his trademark lopsided grin in return. "Consider it done."
Han looked him straight in the eye.
"Thanks, Renn. The more friends we have, the quicker this fight will be, and the quicker this fight is, the less people will get hurt. And that, for me, is worth more than I could say."