Places like this were all the same: a lowlife dive in the front, with a well
concealed back room.  The smoke of a dozen different plants filled the
air, mingling with spilled intoxicants and personal scents of half a hundred
patrons, human and other.

Han Solo balanced the tray very carefully as he carried it to the back room.
He felt oddly out of  place, and definitely not himself at all. Although this
sort of rendezvous was old hat, the conditions that he and Luke were
working under left him uncomfortable.

His usual black and white clothing had been discarded in favor of a
slightly too-stylish green glitter-silk jumpsuit, with matching boots. A durasteel
cage weighed on his left shoulder, encasing him to the fingertips, making his
arm look half-cybernetic and a gunfighter's trophy sash, gold metalweave
with dangling coins, hung at his waist. The coins, each marking a dead opponent,
jingled as he walked, warning the fool-hardy of his lethality.  Only his blaster in
its old quick-draw rig was familiar.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored wall he was approaching and
stared, barely recognizing the man staring back.  His hair was longer, down
on his shoulders, force grown in a medcenter, and jet black.  A gold ring held
it in a tight, short ponytail at the nape of his neck.  He stopped himself from
touching it and instead rubbed surreptitiously at the mustache he had raised.
It itched more than the screws in his skull,  holding the metal plate over his left
eye. The plate was looksteel, one way transparent, and sported a Flamehawk,
accented with blazestones that matched the one in his ear.   That last was the
final horrible touch. It said, in this part of space at least, that he was owned.

Once more, he found himself thinking disloyal thoughts about Luke, who hadn't
had to make nearly as many changes for the trip.  A quick lightening of his hair to
a rich gold, a beard and change of clothing had been the extent of his alteration.
Playing the bodyguard to Luke's merchant was one thing, but even pretending he
was a slave left him on edge most of the time.  And although the doctors assured
him he shouldn't feel anything, sometimes the more deeply implanted body-parts
itched.  Only for Luke would he even have agreed to come along.

 A good many dramatic situations begin with screaming and this one was no different.
Han and Luke had been in Leia's office, prying her away from her work to take her
for lunch, when a junior aide had burst in, shrieking about bombs and Imperial sympathizers.

They evacuated as was required, in a maneuver that had become tiresomely familiar
in the three years since Endor, but none of them took the threat seriously enough.

Leia had turned back, just as her office bloomed into flowers of incandescence.
Luke had been able to shield her from the worst of the blast with the Force, but
she had been in the bacta tank for  days. During that time, Luke hadn't slept and
had barely eaten, as he helped Republic Security track down the assassins who
had tried to kill them all.

 Han stepped through the holographic mirror that led to the back room just as Luke
tossed the black die.  The blazestone signet ring bearing a Flamehawk flashed
red in the dark room. The players held their breath.  Han made a circuit of the table,
delivering the drinks he'd been sent to get.  The die came up a 9, exactly what Luke
needed.   He picked up another from the rack in front of him and rolled.  A 2.  The
droid croupier returned the errant die and passed to the next man who rolled a three.
Finally, the man across from Luke, with the red dice, rolled the needed 10.

The game was easy enough: roll the next number in the sequence.  Each player
put a token in before he rolled, and the pot was split between all the players
according to a percentage chart.  Luke had been balancing his wins and losses
with the Force, trying to appear harmless but not a complete sucker.

Every man in the room was blond, short and bearded, as was typical of this
system.  Luke fit right in.  He was passing for a starsilk merchant, and dressed
the part.  The dark blue matched his eyes and sparkled lavishly in the dim light.
While the croupier divided the tokens, Han leaned in a little closer and whispered
"How are you doing?"

"Not too well. I think I already lost you." The light tone in his voice would be
mistaken for rich- man carelessness, but it told Han he was just teasing.   "And
the Sunfighter Franchise too."  The Falcon had been far too recognizable for this
mission.  Besides, the sleek star yacht fit Luke's persona better.

Bodyguards being notoriously humorless, Han took the words at face value.
"Not the ship, sir?"  He'd tried when they had practiced, but the word "Master"
would not come out of his mouth. They had agreed on "Sir" since a bodyguard had
more status than the sort of slave they both associated with the more servile term.
The mustache had raised eyebrows earlier as well, for a similar reason: facial hair
was the prerogative of free men and they guarded it jealously.

"He's winning," grumbled the man on Luke's other side, their target.  Sparing a
lingering look for Han, one of many this evening, he added "Unfortunately."

Luke managed an oily smile. "Relan's a prize, isn't he? My father won him for me
in a game very like this, many years ago."

"Would you be willing to put him up for wager?" The other man's blue eyes fairly
gleamed as he threw out his die and got a one.

"By no means." Luke ran a possessive hand down Han's cheek and chest. "Not for
the pittances we're playing for here.  He's very special to me."

The mark tossed his second die and got a two. "But everything has a price."  He
boldly reached out and circled his finger around the blazestone earring. "I would pay
well for a man like this." His third die came up a nine.

"This isn't the place to discuss it," Luke said, drawing Han slightly out of the man's
reach before he could bristle too much. "Perhaps later?" He tossed out his die and
it rolled the 3 he needed.

"Dinner. Tomorrow. My card, Owen. Call and we'll set a time."

Luke rolled his four, and five, but then an eleven, which passed the die to the next
shooter, before taking the paplas strip. "Tomorrow then, my friend."

The round played out and Luke won. The man left. Luke stayed for one last round,
cashed his tokens for the local currency, and left, with Han shadowing him.

 Even in their hotel room, they couldn't let down the pretense. Spying was a time-honored
hobby of the merchants in this system. Han went first, pressing the light panel with the
barrel of his blaster, checking for intruders.

Luke followed him. Once in, with the door shut, he whispered, "To the shower, and we'll talk."

Inside the cubicle, the water blocking their voices, Luke reached up and pulled his lover
down for a kiss. He made it long and slow and sweet, repayment for all the indignities Han
had suffered this evening. He relaxed as he felt Han's arms gather him in tighter.

"I'm sorry about all this," he whispered.

"I knew what I was getting into when I said I'd do it," Han replied.  "Update me."

"His name is Sul Harvangul, a stimdust merchant with plenty of underworld connections,
and a long history of Imperial sympathies. He washed out of the academy because of the dust.
He kept his connections, and supplied stimdust to half the Empire. When the New Republic
came in, his business fragmented, and profits plummeted. Now with the decriminalization,
he stands to lose almost everything. And if you don't stop that-"

"Stop what?" Han gave his best innocent look while continuing to rub along the cleft of
 Luke's bottom with his flesh hand.  "Update, don't rehash what I know, kid."

"Or don't stop," Luke pushed him back against
the wall of the shower, and rubbed up against him.  The feel of Han always thrilled him,
and the metal touch of the cybernetic arm was perversely  exciting, making him want to
find his lover under all the disguise.  "I thought you never paid attention during briefings,"
he added, letting the words blow the water away from Han's shoulder.  His own hands
were busy, the left sliding slowly down his lover's body, as the right coaxed open the
gold band holding Han's hair.  He buried his hand in it and pulled Han's face down again
for another kiss.

 "You're loving this, aren't you?" Han gasped, Luke's hand rubbing him steadily. "Gettin' to be bossy."

 "You love it."

 He thrust up against the tantalizing hand.  "You bet.  Love you, kid.  Beard and all."

 Luke nibbled at Han's own mustache.  "I'm even getting fond of this.   I thought it looked
silly at  first."  His fingers brushed the eyeplate.  "I'll just be glad when this comes off.  It
gives me the creeps."  He kissed Han again.  "I implied I'd be interested in business contacts.
We'll have lunch with Harvangul.  He's going to want you."

"I know.  'Sokay.  The medcenter made me look like his favorite dessert for a reason, Luke.
Don't go getting jealous."  He pressed harder against Luke's hand, wanting more friction,
and gasped when Luke aligned his own hardness and rubbed them together.

It turned Luke on that he could reduce Han to incoherent fragments with just these
touches.  He struggled to clear his own thoughts enough to be coherent.  "I'm not
 jealous.  Don't worry.  He won't get more than a kiss on you."

"Not-" Han gasped "worried."  He drew a sharp breath.  "Kid, stop or I won't-"
Another breath, this one caught through clenched teeth.

Reluctant to let go of his lover, to lose the warm skin and gentle touch, Luke
eased away, his hands still on Han's chest.  "When we get out, bed as soon as we're dry."

Gathering what little composure he had left, Han nodded and stepped out.  Luke
followed, the water turning off automatically.  Han tossed a towel around his waist, and
wrapped one around Luke, rubbing him slowly and enjoying the feel of the strong body
under the soft cloth.  The bodyguard became body servant within the undoubtedly
bugged rooms, but this part he didn't mind.  The shower was the only place they spoke
freely.  Han took what liberties he could under the guise of efficiently performing his
duties: a quick clutch of Luke's bottom, a lingering stroke on his legs, a gentle cupping of the
hardness that tempted him even through the towel.

Luke, eager to take up where they had left off, brushed the towel aside and laid one
hand on his chest, pressing him toward the bed.  Even their normal lovemaking patterns
had been altered for this mission.  The easy pleasures of mood and desire had given way
to rigid roles enforced by unseen eyes.

He wasn't sure if he should feel guilty about how much he enjoyed this, being watched
over and pampered like the wealthy merchant he was pretending to be.  He had already
decided that once they had Leia's would-be assassin, he was going to treat Han to a few
days of the same sort of luxury, just to watch him relax and enjoy it.

Han lay back and reached toward the nightstand for the lubricant.  Luke half-knelt half-lay
on top of him and caught his hand.  He kissed Han, rubbing his still-damp body over the
warm skin beneath him.  He nipped at the spot behind the big Corellian's ear that always
drove him crazy until Han was bucking beneath him like a half-tamed kizur.  He stroked
through the light down of hair to rub his nipples, only to find they were already hard.  Luke
gently flicked his thumb across one and got a twitch.  A slightly harder flick sent a shudder
through his lover, thrilling him.

"Killing me here," Han whispered desperately in his ear.  "Ready, Sir," he said,
keeping his voice as flat as possible.

"Ready me, then."  Luke hated the flatness, the humorless facade Han had to wear.
The pretense that had so delighted him at first, like a secret romance under the cover of
a convenience, now felt like too much to maintain.  He wanted nothing more than to take
Han as a lover instead of as a man making use of a servant, and be taken by him in return.
But that would have to wait a few more days.

For now, Han was lingering, relishing the feel of the velvet skin under his fingers as he
carefully  prepared Luke.  Seeing the flush in his face and the wideness of his eyes, Luke
quickly pressed him to roll toward the wall.  They had tried it face-to-face, but neither had
found it comfortable.  Han's legs were a heavy distraction and it was a long shot at an
awkward angle.  And facing each other had lost some appeal when each looked a little
scrunched and a lot distracted.  This was the easiest, and most comfortable way they'd found.

Luke ran lazy hands over the larger man's body, savoring the feel of smooth skin, the tickle
of the crinkly hair.  He kissed along Han's shoulder before tipping his face back for a real one.
He'd not had much practice being the active partner, preferring to let his more-experienced
lover handle that when they chose this particular style.  Now, he had discovered that loving
Han like this was more than a pleasure, it was almost a gift.  A gift that Han trusted him enough,
a gift that he was willing to share the small pains of entry, the deep connections and intimacy of
full contact.  Able to wait no longer, Luke spread his lover with one hand, and used the other to
guide himself in.

 Han drew in his breath as Luke entered.  It didn't hurt, not after the first small sting, not now
that he was used to it.  The first attempt on this trip, even with maximum lubricant and slow
stretching, had been a test of will.  It had been a while since they'd made love in that way,
usually preferring subtler pleasures, and he was sore for a few hours.

Now, the feel of Luke inside of him, moving slowly, had him thrusting against the empty air
again.  It sent ripples of electricity through every limb.  He pressed back, trying to take more,
feeling the warmth of his lover against his back, the light stroke of a tongue along his shoulder
blade.  A quick nip at the sweet spot behind his ear made him groan.  He couldn't take much
more of this.  Just being around Luke aroused him, and this new dimension to Luke, the
aggressive lover, the sensualist, was intoxicating.  As a bodyguard he was not allowed to
drink, but he didn't need to.  The constant proximity of Luke was enough to sharpen his senses,
while totally distracting his mind.

Luke ran one hand down Han's body, feeling ribs, and belly, and coming to rest on his hip,
just at the edge of the short curls.  One finger spanned the gap to stroke the hardness
pumped so eagerly toward his hand.   A very soft moan delighted him, adding to the building
heat in his own groin, the tightness that coiled in his own belly.  Luke slipped his hand around
the desperate cock, and moved in time with his hips, in a motion he knew would bring Han
to rapid climax.

 Luke held back, doing his best to map sand dunes and name stars in his head, knowing
the moment he surrendered to the tight heat engulfing him, the rich scent of his lover, the
soft skin under his hands and mouth, he'd be lost.  That would be unfair to Han, so he fought,
knowing he was losing even as he pressed more deeply and buried his face between Han's
shoulder-blades.  He felt wetness on his fingers and a tensing of the big body he was wrapped
around.  Then, he gave himself over to the pleasure, pounding deep and hard, wanting to
prolong the delightful tension, but wanting release from it as well.  He opened himself, taking in
the physical sensations and some through the Force as well, enough to catch the shape of Han's
thoughts, the lingering pleasure and creeping afterglow.  He buried his face in Han's neck, unable
to last any longer, whispering his lover's name against his skin as he climaxed.

 "Force, I love you," he managed, softly enough to be taken for a sigh.  He curled into Han's
back and fell asleep almost instantly.

 The next morning, they spent working as their covers.  Luke had rented a shop under the
name Owen Aldar.  The starsilk sold like wildfire, and he was busy all morning, measuring,
making change and answering questions.  Han stood, a looming presence, a head taller than
most of the shoppers, discouraging shoplifters and cheats.

 At midday, Sul Harvangul swept into the shop.  He greeted Luke effusively and
looked at Han with measurable hunger.

 "Owen, you didn't call.  I found out where you set up shop, and thought I'd sweep
you off for lunch.  Lock up.  My treat."  Luke locked down the till, and closed the shop.
Sul led them to a waiting groundcar.  "Can your man drive one of these?  The
destination is already plotted."

"Relan, please," Luke gestured Han into the open cab of the groundcar, while he and
Sul slid into the closed back section.  He watched as Sul set the soundproofing.

"Relan, is it?  A pretty name for a pretty slave.  I want him, Owen.  I'm prepared to
offer a great deal for him."

 "Premature, isn't it, Sul?  You only saw him last night.  You have no idea of his abilities,
or his loyalty."

 "You're right."  Sul handed him a glass of violet wine.  "But I'd like to find out.  Maybe
we should have lunch at my place."  He tapped a new course into the groundcar's computer.
In the cab, Han compensated for the change.

 Luke pretended to sip his wine.  Harvangul was not above poisoning or drugging
a rival.  "Very well.  Perhaps a demonstration would be in order.  Say, an hour with
him?"

 "Excellent.  And what would you like in return, dear Owen?"

 "Information.  You see, I have a thriving business, but there is another operation that
is a stone in my shoe.  I'd like to be in a position to buy them out.  Would you know
anyone who could help me?"

 "Ah, backers...  I might know a few."

 Luke looked down at his wine, and then up at Sul without raising his face.  A single
half-smile quirked his mouth.  "Not quite.  A man of your position, and repute, must
surely know of some more direct methods."

 "You would like your rival's business to heat up?"  The question was a deadpan.

 "Precisely."

 "That kind of information will cost you.  I want a full-day's trial of Relan, three hundred
yards of the starsilk, and twenty thousand credits."

 "Relan, two hundred yards and ten thousand credits."

 "Fifteen."

 They sealed the deal with more wine, and the customary kiss.  When Luke tried to
make it brief and perfunctionary, Sul held him in and lingered a little.

 "It's my body-servant you've negotiated for, not me," Luke reminded him.

 "Everything has a price, dear Owen," Sul laughed, patting his cheek.

 Sul Harvangul's apartment was in a lavish secured building.  Han let the groundcar
park itself in the designated slot, and bounded out to open the door for Luke and the
merchant.  The apartment itself was a sybaritic nightmare of luxury and bad taste: plush
furniture and rich tapestries, expensive psy-art that showed the viewer whatever he
was in the mood to see, cheap plas religious statues from a hundred worlds crowding
a single shelving unit, tacky street vendor rugs and the capper, a filagree statue of a pair
of lovers, on which each bit of carving was another pair of copulating men.

 "Most impressive, Sul."

 The stimdust merchant spoke into a panel, and beckoned Luke to recline with him
at a sunken table.  "If your man would serve, I'll leave my droid in its charging closet."

 "Relan," Luke commanded, gesturing to the food synth that had created a lunch to
match the room.  Han brought the dishes to the table, and poured the wine from a
sealed bottle.  Luke motioned him  to sit on the floor nearby, and fed him bites of
food by hand as he and Sul talked of trivialities.  In the past couple years Luke had
become adept at small talk, one more of the changes Han was still not used to.

 Han bit down on his temper and stayed alert.  It could be worse.   Had he been
playing the role of a pleasure slave, he'd have been expected to lie beside Luke,
perhaps servicing him during the meal.  He resisted the temptation to nip Luke's
fingers as they slipped him another piece of fruit, just to remind his lover not to
take the role too seriously.

 Lunch was interminable.

 Sul seemed to be drawing out his erotic tension, increasing the agony.  He stared
at Han, who wished his jumpsuit was less form-fitting.  Luke for his part, squashed
his jealousy, and bit down on the possessive words that sprang to his mouth.  Not a
jealous person by nature, he was surprised at himself.  They had both known the
mission would come to this, but somehow, seeing Sul's eyes wandering idly over
Han's body irritated him more than he had expected.    Both visitors breathed silent
sighs of relief when their host indicated Han should clear away the remains of their meal.

 He handed Luke a data chip.  Luke slipped it into a pocket-sized player and read
the name and location to himself.  Signs and countersigns, available services,
everything was there.  He nodded back at Sul.

 "Relan, Sul would like a sample of your other talents," Luke said mildly.  "He
knows how effective you are as a bodyguard since I'm here."  This was it, the
crux of events.  They had everything they needed, but had yet to get out with
their lives.

 "Yes, sir."  Han stood before their host and began unloosing the gold sash.  His face,
normally so expressive, was flat.  Luke watched, waiting for a chin twitch or an
eyebrow waggle, anything that would tell him his lover was somewhere inside this
borg bodyguard.

 "Such haste."  Sul stood up.   He stepped in close and ran questing hands over the
big man's body before pulling him down for a kiss.

 Han kissed back in a perfect, unemotional way, and felt the arms around him go
limp.  Luke had moved up behind Sul and sent him into unconsciousness with a
Force suggestion.  Han lowered their unconscious host to the cushions.  Luke sat
beside him and began rummaging in Sul's memories, adding new neural paths.

Han took over at Sul's computer, coding his way past the security and encryption
with the ease of long practice.  He pulled up bank records and any other information
he could find that linked Sul Harvangul to the bombing of Leia's office.  Then he found
the security camera.  Cameras.  Shit.  Four of them to jury-rig.

 A couple hours later, Luke wandered over to check.  "All the false memories of
enjoying you are implanted.  He'll wake up tomorrow about noon, remembering a
decadent afternoon and a wild night of passion, and us leaving at dawn."  He leaned
over with a kiss on Han's cheek, and looked at the computer.

 "Any ideas on how to fool the cams?"

 "Let me.  I shouldn't do this, and you may have to carry me home."  He stood up
straight and began pulling ectoplasm from the Force, molding it.  His eyes were solid
blue with no pupils and they rolled ceiling-ward.

 "Luke, don't hurt yourself."  Han half-stood, but knew better than to disturb
Luke at something this complex.

 The warning was too late.  Luke had created a holosim of Han and Sul, out of
sheer Force and will.  He aimed the cameras at it, made sure it covered the spot
on the tape where he'd created the false memories, and let it run.  He programmed
the cameras to follow their exit, and place it at dawn.  He managed to walk out the
door, but promptly collapsed in Han's arms.

 "Too much.  Head exploding," he whispered, sagging against Han's chest.

 "C'mon, let's go home.  You're in no shape to reopen the shop."  He helped Luke
to walk until it became apparent it wasn't worth the effort.  He scooped Luke up,
staggering a bit at the smaller man's weight, and made his way to the street.  Luke
had recovered enough to stand, leaning heavily on him, by the time he hailed a robohack.

 Back at the hotel, Luke practically fell onto the bed, and was asleep before Han
got the door shut.  Han settled down in a chair and kept a worried watch on his lover.
He knew, from past experience, that too much delicate Force manipulation would
knock Luke cold for a few hours, and he'd awaken ravenously hungry.  Han
brought up a city directory on their terminal and began looking for unlimited buffets.

 True to form, Luke woke up four hours later.  He staggered to the 'fresher, and
emerged a few minutes later looking better than he had all day, almost like his
usual self.

 "We have reservations for dinner, sir," Han told him, looking forward to the day
he could drop the formality.  "I knew you'd be hungry."

 "Excellent work.  Thanks."  Luke leaned over and kissed his cheek.  "We leave
after we eat and before Sul wakes up."  The lips wandered across his face to his mouth.

 Han kissed him back, thinking of delaying dinner, but a loud growl from Luke's
stomach stopped that notion.  "Yes, sir."

 During the trip to the restaurant, Luke used the robohack's courtesy terminal to
get lift clearance, end their shop lease, arrange for their goods to be stored on his
yacht and for Sul Harvangal's two hundred yards to be delivered.

 Han chuckled softly as he leaned in to kiss Luke's ear and whisper, "Ever so
honorable, this Owen Aldar."

 "I'm an honest man making an honest living.  Now bring that around front."
 
 "As you wish, sir."  The pleased twinkle in Han's eye belied the formality of the
words as he leaned around to kiss Luke properly.

 They made the jump with the coordinates Luke had gotten from the data chip.
Two detours and three checkpoints later, their covers and lives still intact, they
were cleared for the final meeting.  One hitch, one funny look, even the slightest
hint that there was anything more to them than an over- ambitious starsilk merchant
and his bodyguard, and Leia would find herself without a family again.

A tense moment had ensued when a medical scanner had shown Han was full of
 metal components.  Their contact had been unwilling to let a borg past his
check-point.  He'd been persuaded through judicious application of the Force.

 Han stood solemnly behind Luke's chair, alert and recording everything through
a miniature camera in one of the studs that held the eyeplate on.  It had been wired
 into his optic nerve, so all he had to do was focus his eye on the person he wanted to
record.  He hated it.  Looking half-borg was bad enough.  An actual cybernetic implant,
even one as tiny as this and for such a good cause, left him terrified.  Luke had done
a lot of talking to convince him on this one.  The other implants were purely cosmetic
to hide this one: a metal plating of his skull, an arm made to look cybernetic, metal
femurs.  The doctors had promised to put him all back together with his own parts
when he got back.  He'd sic Chewie on them if they failed.

 "But Trader Aldar, our methods are very permanent and very expensive. Surely
you can take care of your little price dispute like business people?  Or there are
the courts..."  For all his law- abiding protest, Darvin Linalv was reputedly the largest
seller of illegal explosives in the quadrant, maybe in the whole sector.  His own
bodyguards were massive humanoids that looked as if they could chew hullplating
and spit out power-couplings.

 "It has gone beyond that, and into personal insult, good Linalv.  I offered to marry
my rival's daughter, aligning our two concerns and sharing the profit that would come
from a near monopoly on the commodity.  The two-faced chit encouraged me, and
then ran mewling to her father that I had offended her honor."

 "And had you?" Linalv leaned in for the juicy details.

 "With Relan here to watch out for both of us?  I think not.  She hissed at me in
parting that she knew my tastes and that she was not among them."  He spared a
caress for Han, the better to let the arms-dealer think him jaded and egotistical.
"In truth she is not.  But since when does one marry for love?"

 "Indeed.  And the courts?"

 "All in the name of free trade.  They can do nothing if a fool wishes to sell at a
loss so that I am driven out of business.  I want something effective.  I want terror.
I want destruction rained upon them until they beg me to save them from ruin by
wedding the nerf-faced trull and taking charge of  their operation.  I want them to
suffer."  Luke's eyes glittered and for a moment Linalv leaned back, unnerved at the
pale fury before him.  "Can you give this to me?"

 "Yes, yes, it should be no problem.  For an operation of this scale..." Linalv tapped
numbers into the portable readout and mumbled to himself for a moment "six
operatives...twenty tons of...fire...com calls...assault."  He looked up at Luke.
"Trader Aldar, would you prefer the girl to be in pristine condition when she is
given you, or is slightly used acceptable?"

 Recoiling internally that this man was asking him in such bland terms whether he
wanted his mythical rival's daughter raped, Luke thought hard and fast.  "Can you
have her accosted but let me prevent any harm?"

 "Of course, but it is more costly.  The hazard to my operatives is greater."  He
returned to calculating.  "Ah, there we have it, terror on a budget."

 Han looked over Luke's shoulder at the itemized list of actions and their costs.
The camera photographed the small scale war that was being offered for a
quarter million credits.

 "Far less than I thought it'd be.  Are you sure your men are the best?"  Luke looked up
 suspiciously.

 "Of course they are."

 "But how do I know?" Luke persisted.  "What have they done?"

 "Surely a man of your standing must know that such information is not given
 out."

 "Well..."  Luke pushed the readout back toward the arms dealer.  "If you can't
at least give me an example, I certainly can't hire you.  I mean, I know Sul said
you were good, and carried out your mission to the letter for him.  But I need
something more concrete than a bomb that only killed a few low-level staff.  Your
men didn't even get Leia Organa in that blast."

 "That blast wasn't meant to kill.  It was a warning.  A warning to back off the stimdust
 legalization.  The message got through.  Stimdust has been dropped from the Senate's
agenda.  We did exactly what Harvangul paid us to do.  And we'll do exactly what you
 pay us to.  You'll be drinking your bridal wine and counting your profit in less than a
 fifty-day, I guarantee."

 "Very good."  Luke set a moneycase on the table and the numbers rolled over to
reveal the quarter- million.  "Do the same for me.  I will have coordinates, names
and locations on a cube for you in one hour.  For now, begin your preparations."

 Han had triggered the homing alert the second they'd arrived, and Republic
security would be here within the hour.  They returned to the ship and Luke made a
business of making a cube for Linalv.  They found themselves with most of the hour
left, and likely under surveillance.

 Luke was conducting a little surveillance of his own.  Han had no idea how much
the longer hair turned him on.  Even the eyeplate was starting to seem sexy instead of
 scary.  And green was definitely his lover's color, setting off his skin and bringing
out the green in his eye.  This trip had been a revelation for Luke about both of them,
and he suspected that even after Han had been restored to himself, things might be
different.  He missed the teasing and humor, the biting wit he had come to love.  He
would be glad to have that back.  But he liked this compliant side of Han, the one that
let him initiate the love making, arching so sweetly into his touch and dropping little
touches throughout the day that signaled his willingness and arousal.  He didn't want
it all the time, but nothing said Han had to send it back into complete hiding.

 He watched Han stowing away some loose bolts, and caught his eye.  "Relan,
here," he beckoned, gesturing between his feet.

 Han sat down on the deckplate, half-wary, ready to spring, but Luke coaxed him
into laying his head against one knee.  It was something new Luke had created on
the trip and Han found he liked it.  It was sexy to sit there, his cheek pressed against
the corded thigh, the faintest hint of musk reaching his nose.  Luke stroked his hair
softly, pulling him out of his arousal, then bent down to kiss him and whisper, "When?"

 "Another twenty.  This could get ugly."  Luke tipped his face up for a kiss and
Han broke it quickly.  "Sir, I am to guard you as well as pleasure you.  Your father
will be angry if harm comes through my inattention."

 "The hatch is locked.  What's to worry?"  Luke spoke with studied carelessness,
already aware of the intruder on board.  "Already ugly," he mumbled.

 "You should listen to your bodyguard, borg-fucker," said one of the enforcers,
closing on his chair.

 "Yeah, but a metal-head like him's gonna short out before we're done."

 Han shoved Luke down and snapped off two shots from his kneeling position,
taking each enforcer in the head.  "Think again."

 "Let me up."  Luke's muffled voice came from the area of his knees.  He sat
upright and drew his own blaster, lightsaber in his other hand.  So far no one
knew Luke was anything more than a trader.

 "Sorry about that.  I had a chance and took it."

 "And did splendidly at it, General Solo."  Darvin Linalv clapped mockingly as he
strode to where they sat.  "You gave yourself away with the fast-draw, dear man."
Mercenaries and other gunmen swarmed aboard the small ship.  "And you must be
the ever so-famous Jedi Knight, Luke Skywalker.  Your disguises were clever enough,
and there are many humanoids who look like you.  You fooled Sul Harvangul.  You
fooled my checkpoints.  But you can't fool another Force-user,  Jedi.  You forgot to
damp your aura."

 Now that Darvin let it burst forth, Luke could tell he was indeed Force-sensitive,
but untrained.  He  cursed himself for six kinds of fool.  He couldn't protect both
of them from all the blaster bolts.  The odds were bad that one of them would get
shot if they fought.  Han was calculating how many of the men with blast-rifles he
could take out if he decided to shoot it out.

 "Put your weapons on the deck, gentlemen and step away from them.  I should
execute you now, but I want to know why.  Is it because of the bomb that wounded
Organa?"

 "No, we just hate having our lunch plans interrupted," Han said dryly, taking two
steps back from his precious blaster.

 "We do not deal in terror, Linalv.  We are opposed to it, and will seek out and
destroy anyone, independent or organized who attempts to--"

 Linalv's mocking laughter cut Luke off.  "This, from the greatest terrorist in the
galaxy?  This from a man who single-handedly slaughtered millions with one shot?
Oh, you idealist, just because you  won the war doesn't make you any more noble
than those who do the same in another cause."

 Explosions from outside drew their attention.  Republic Security bombers were
leveling the compound, as fighters covered them on strafing runs.  Thinking rapidly,
Linalv opened a com-channel.

 "Attention Republic fleet.  This is Darvin Linalv.  I am holding General Solo and
Jedi Skywalker hostage aboard the Sunfighter Franchise.  Call off the attack or I
will shoot Solo."

 "Acknowledge Darvin Linalv.  Breaking off attack."  Wedge's voice was calm and
level.    The ships maintained a low altitude formation.

 "You," he pointed at the two thugs nearest the hatch, "Go see what's left."
 

 Han glanced at Luke.  So much for a rescue.  He seemed to hear Luke inside his
head //When you get a chance, take it.//

 "Boss, we're flat.  Nothing left.  They hit the munitions first."  The first report straggled
back aboard.  Amid the looks of shock, Luke seized the bare split-second.

 His lightsaber was in his hand and he was cutting through his opponents like a Tatooine
whirlwind, faster than human eye could follow.  About the same time, Han realized his
blaster was hovering an inch from his own hand.  He dropped two thugs without
thinking and took aim at the third.

 Luke came face to face with Darvin Linalv.  "You are mine."

 "I thought Jedi didn't seek revenge."  Linalv hurled a small ball of Force at him.
Luke deflected it.

 "We don't."  He sent Linalv's force-lightening back on the man, making him writhe
under it.  "But you have tried to kill my sister.  And my lover.  And me."  With each
accusation, the lightening grew stronger.  "For that, you will pay through proper
channels."  A small gesture dispersed the lightening and sent Linalv to his knees,
choking and gasping for air.

 "Kid, don't."  The enforcers were all down, and Han came to stand at Luke's side,
staring at the choking man.

 "I won't kill him.  He'll be easier to transport unconscious."  The calm, reasonable
quality of  Luke's voice, as if this was the most logical action in the universe,
unnerved Han.

 "Then make it quick.  That's torture.  I know."  The last was spoken softly for Luke's
ears only,  and dragged up foul memories of Bespin.

 Linalv toppled to the deck.  "I'm sorry," Luke said, catching the tenor of his
lover's thoughts.

 "You could have just dropped him unconscious like Sul Harvangul.  What were
you thinking?"

 "Let's turn him in and go home, my love."  The endearment only made it worse,
and Han pulled away when Luke touched him.  They delivered the arms merchant
into the hands of the security force and tossed the dead men off the ship.  The security
detail could mop up, they had done their share.

 The sleek yacht made good time back to the Republic Governing Offices on Corellia.
The trip was long, and silent.  Han was upset by what he had seen in Luke's face as
 Linalv went down. Luke was bothered by his own pleasure in the man's agony, and
by Han's reaction.

 At last, an hour out of Corellia, Luke broke the silence.  "I don't know what I
was thinking.  I was angry and it seemed like the reasonable thing to do.  But I
know what you're thinking and I am not my father."

 "For a minute there, you looked like you wanted to be."

 "Han, that's not fair."

 "Isn't it?  What's this then?"  Han caught his hand and turned the signet so it caught
the light.  "Why a flamehawk, a legend that dies and renews itself in fire?"

 "I am not Vader reborn."

 "You were gloating over Linalv.  You wanted him to suffer."

 "Yes, I did.  I'm human.  I wear my heart outside my body in two places, you
and Leia, and he wounded it in both.  I wanted him to die in as much pain as I
could muster for him.  But I did not kill him.  I wanted to, but I did not.  That is
not my prerogative.  He is alive and in proper custody."

 There was something to this.  Han had heard what Luke was capable of; although
he hadn't actually seen the whole confrontation at Jabba's, the others had filled him in.
But before, the arrogant Jedi act had always seemed just that: an act.  He sat and
thought for a while.

 "Angry I can understand," he conceded, remembering a few of his own rasher actions,
and some done in cold blood.  "Just promise me you'll think before you ride the rage too far?"

 Seeing how much it meant to Han, Luke nodded.  "I will.  We'll discuss this
more when you're done in the medcenter.  You're going in as soon as we land and
coming out your old self."

 "I can only hope."  He finally gave in to the urge to scratch at the eyeplate, and
crack the durasteel  knuckles of his left hand.  This uneasy peace was all he'd get
out of Luke for now.

 They landed and took the waiting transport to the medcenter where Han was
expected.  The meddroids whisked him through in-processing, all records and
expenses cleared by the highest levels of government.

 They stopped Luke at the doorway of surgery.  He halted the floaterstretch.
"Han, I love you."  He leaned over and kissed his lover, stroking the eyeplate
for the last time.

 Han looked up into the clear blue eyes, and saw only Luke.  None of the anger that
he'd seen earlier remained, only the same burning desire for justice that he'd always
seen on that face.  He decided that maybe justice sometimes required anger of those
who served her.  "Hey, kid," he said, brushing Luke's chin as the floaterstretch began
moving again, "Shave for me."

The one-sided smile lingered in Luke's mind as the operating room doors closed.
Han was his anchor against the darkness, something his father had never had.  He
went down to the vending area to find a razor and a 'fresher.