Nebulous - Han Solo [2]

Chapter 3 :Stupidity

"Princess," said the deck officer, running over to her. Tasha hadn't slept, well, not gotten any decent sleep anyway. Her eyes had dark circles under them, her skin pale, and her expression groggy. She turned her head of unkempt black hair towards him, pulling a hopefully less anxious expression onto her face.

"Yes?" she said, her voice slightly higher than she expected, and slightly squeaky, expectant.

"The speeders are ready ma'am; a few members of rogue squadron are going out in them to look for Captain Solo and Commander Skywalker." He said. Tasha smiled in relief.

"There isn't a spare speeder for me is there?" the deck officer grinned at her, his blue eyes twinkling.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he said happily, "follow me,"

Tasha knew her way into the hangar, but she didn't mind following the deck officer just this once. She wasn't supposed to fly, actually she had snuck out on the Falcon last time they had made a supplies run. And even then she'd copped an earful for it. Not that she cared. They were making her into their propaganda machine, so she could at least give them something that wasn't completely forced to film. Even when she was doing what they said they were cross at her. So, what was wrong with being a pain in the ass every so often?

He stopped in front of one of the speeders, shooting the technical personnel that surrounded it an apprehensive look. The deck officer could get into serious trouble for this. Everyone knew the princess wasn't supposed to do anything except look pretty for the camera and read out her little speeches. He handed her a shiny blue data stick.

"This holds the activation sequence," he handed her a black helmet, "your call sign is rogue eight," Tasha grinned at him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you for this," she said, walking away, "I owe you one," she jogged up to her speeder, pulling her helmet on over her head and doing up her black jacket. She hopped into the cockpit, the speeder's windshield lowering down on top of her. One of her conditions of letting them turn her into their propaganda mogul was that she could be just a regular soldier, so a regular soldier she would be, at least temporarily.

"Commander Skywalker, do you copy? This is rogue eight. This is rogue eight." The same call was sounded miles in either direction, as far as they thought Luke could get on his volition. Tasha was still worried sick. Nothing more than the unhelpful bubble of static had appeared all morning.

"Captain Solo, do you copy?" she waited a second; let the crackling sound of the radio static fill her ears, and her concern fill her head.

"Good morning, princess," came a reply, barely audible through the crackling, but there none the less, "nice of you and your friends to drop by,"

"Shut up Solo," Tasha snapped back, smiling like a Cheshire cat even though no one could see it "we're here aren't we?" she peered at her scanner as the red dot of a tracking beacon appeared, before casting her green eyes out the window, catching onto a waving figure stood beside one of the rebellion's emergency shelters.

"Echo base, this is rogue eight. I've found them. I repeat, I've found them!" her excitement bubbled into her voice, something that hadn't been there for a long time. Han heard it too, smiling as her speeder touched down near him.

Tasha hopped out before the cockpit had fully moved, pulling the helmet off her raven head as she reached the ground. The first thing that hit her was the cold. It was freezing. They obviously don't call it an ice planet for nothing. Her teeth chattered involuntarily, her thin jacket doing little to combat the cold and the gale-force winds that whipped up a frenzy of snow. She rubbed her arms, trying to warm them up as she made her way over to the shelter.

Her boots sunk into the snow and she glared at the smuggler.

"do you take pride in being the galaxy's biggest pain in the backside?" she said angrily, kicking him in the shin for good measure, not that it did much against all that protective clothing, snow clothing.

"How could you have been so stupid?!" she said, almost shrieking at him.

"Look can you stop yelling at me and get the kid out of here?" he said, just as angrily, "he was nearly dead when I found him," Tasha's eyes widened, dashing into the shelter. Luke lay inside, not asleep, not dead as Tasha had feared, awake, conscious, but only just. She crouched down next to him, her black hair falling slightly over her face.

"Luke, Luke? Can you hear me?" Tasha said urgently and was greeted with a gaggled of mumbled gibberish. "Well he's alive," she said to Han, standing back up and brushing off her pants, "but he won't fit in the speeder. We're gonna need to get a medical transport out here. Soon."

Her nails were chewed down to their beds, blood seeping around the corners of them, but Tasha ignored it. She always chewed her nails. She tired to stop, but sometimes the situation just called for it. Luke bobbed around in the bacta tank, a breathing mask attached to his face, his body limp. God only knows what happened to him, all he's been doing is talking in gibberish since he arrived. He was in bad shape, and if Han hadn't rescued him . . . well, Tasha didn't want to think about it. Leant against the doorway of the medical centre, she watched the medical droid do its work. Han stood behind her, and she leant towards him slightly, drawing strength from him and his confidence. Not that she would ever let anyone know that.

"Commander Skywalker is out of danger," said the medical droid in a raspy, metallic voice, "his wounds have heeled 60%"

Tasha let out a relieved breath, a smile cracking on her face. She ran her long, slightly bloody fingers through her hair, the thoughts she'd been keeping at bay swirling in her brain again. She turned to Han, a slight smirk on her face, but a weak one, with none of her usual arrogance behind it.

"Thank you, for saving him," she said, her eyes flitting to the ground, her feet shuffling nervously.

"Your welcome, your highness,"