Going Somewhere Fast

"So what you got?"

"Stuff."

"Stuff?"

"I dunno, stuff." Han crouched down in the hovel that he and Qi'ra called home – some tattered clothes strung above them from stolen clothes lines to protect them from the elements, a crackling fire on the pavement to keep them warm, an assortment of gadgets in a box that they got to decide between using for themselves (in which case they'd go into their own personal boxes), or pawning them to someone who, if they were lucky, would give them 20% of the item's actual value. Items ranging from capacitors from landspeeders, to a barely functioning E-11 blaster rifle from an unfortunate stormtrooper.

"Well, come on, let's see it."

Han turned out the bag and delivered the "stuff" to Qi'ra, who began spreading it out on the ground between them. Pre-packaged, highly processed meals that had been on a hover truck that, thanks to a bit of firework magic, had ground to a halt as its engine decided to join the Celestials of myth. Someone with half a brain had thought that transporting packaged foods in open cover was still a risk worth paying, and the children of Cornet City had swarmed the wreck, nabbing what they could before law enforcement arrived, or worse, stormtroopers. They were rotten shots, but unlike law enforcement, Han had noticed that the bucket heads shot first, and asked questions never.

"Hmm." Qi'ra arranged the boxes out before them. All ten of them. "Fifty-fifty?"

"Eh, I can go sixty-forty."

"How kind of you." She reached for one of the packaged boxes but Han swatted her hand aside.

"Didn't say you got the sixty."

She gave him 'the pout' – the type of pout that had worked back before either of them reached double digits. Once, he would have fallen for that. Now, in his early teens, he knew better.

"Y'know, there's people who say that generosity is a virtue." Qi'ra could tell that 'the pout' wasn't working, but it was clear that she wasn't going to give up yet.

"Yeah, well those people are either dead, or not here." Han took the first packaged meal – the one that had recognisable vegetables, and meat that looked like it came from an animal that hadn't originated from a rock in Wild Space. "My hit, my loot."

Qi'ra scooped up four of them and brought them into her side of hovel. Han briefly considered that maybe he should have taken his six from the outset, that just because he was getting the wolf's share, it didn't mean he was getting the best of it. As he tore into the meat (it tasted bland, which was a step up from most of the food one could scrounge up on Corellia), he looked at the rest of the pickings. Vegetables of every colour except green, covered in mixtures of every colour except red, alongside portions of meat that he didn't recognise. In theory, it woulkd keep him alive, but at what cost? If you fell ill on the streets of Coronet City, chances were you weren't getting up again. You got ill, you got slow. You got slow, you could either starve to death, or get shot.

"Hmm." Qi'ra licked her fingers. "You missed out on the good stuff."

He ignored her, slowly finishing his own meal. He held a purple vegetable thing with one hand, while he stacked the boxes with his other. If he got food poisoning, he wanted to have a better idea of the culprit. Reaching into his own box, he pulled out some moonshine and took a sip. It tasted bitter, it made his eyes burn, but it would help him get to sleep. To numb him to the blaring ads that ran 25/7, 329 days a year. To dull his vision against the blazing lights of the ground world, and of the ships up above. Corellian freighters exporting goods to feed the Empire. The Star Destroyers of the Empire itself that hung in the sky like leviathans. Corellia was their world now. Corellia would serve the galactic good, for a sane, safe, and stable universe. Corellia would do a lot of things, and if its people didn't like those things, they could either stay in the dirt or be forgotten, or try and escape.

Qi'ra took a sip of the moonshine – the look on her face told her that she didn't like it any more than he did. He watched as she curled up under the rags that served as a blanket. A moment later, he did the same. In the winter months, they'd sometimes curl up under the same blanket together. Since it was summer, that wasn't happening.

"Night," she murmured.

"Night," he grunted. He put out the fire, closed his eyes and lay his head against some old newspaper – back from when paper was actually a thing on this world. Slowly, and not that surely, the world around him began to fade. The lights, the music, the announcements from the office of the local governor. Rebels, miscreants, anarchists…something about being brought to justice and reporting any suspicious activity to the Imperial Security Bureau…the usual poodoo…the usual…usual…

HEY SPORT, DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE UNIVERSE?

Gah!

Han groaned – he'd nearly been asleep, but no, the universe wasn't even going to give him that luxury. He opened one eye and looked at a blimp up above, displaying some wide eyed human looking up at the stars.

DO YOU WANT A LIFE OF ADVENTURE?

Yes. Now shut up.

DO YOU WANT TO MAKE THE GALAXY A SAFER PLACE AND SERVE THE EMPIRE?

Not really.

WELL, YOU'RE IN LUCK!

Doubt it.

The image on the blimp swivelled to an Imperial academy. "Sport," as the ad called the sucker, looked upon the monolithic structure. The banners of the Empire flew in the breeze. Line upon line of stormtroopers stood in place alongside naval men as "Sport" walked up to the doors, as if about to receive a bloody medal. Much as he hated the ad for waking him up (and the ad in general), Han found himself looking up at the blimp. The doors opened, and "Sport" found himself on the bridge of an Imperial Star Destroyer. Dressed in a uniform, and looking very pleased with himself.

YOU TOO CAN BE PART OF THE IMPERIAL FAMILY, the ad declared. DON'T JUST DREAM ABOUT APPLYING FOR THE ACADEMY, MAKE IT COME TRUE!

Han closed his eyes again. He knew how the ad would go – worlds, stars, fame and fortune – all the stuff that the Empire promised, but never delivered on. Corellia had been a dung hole before Palpatine had come to power, but over half a decade on…it couldn't be just him, things were getting worse. The hand of the Empire tightened around his world, and more and more people were either crushed to death, or slipped through the fingers of Imperial bureaucracy

…YOUR APPLICATION TO THE IMPERIAL SCREENING OFFICE, CARE OF THE COMMONDANT, AND JOIN THE RANKS OF THE PROUD!

The ad had finally ended – "Sport" disappeared, and another ad began, advertising some kind of facial cream for drall. Why the heck the drall would need facial cream Han didn't know (considering their faces were covered in fur), but someone, somewhere, had decided that they had a product they could sell.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes – he'd nearly been asleep but that damn ad had made him wide awake. Worse, it wasn't even close to morning. He-

"Can't sleep?"

He looked at Qi'ra, who was still lying down under her rags, but had somehow noticed that he was awake. Even if her eyes remained closed.

"How'd you know that?"

"Breathing changed," she murmured. "Also, that ad played again."

"What ad?"

"You know the ad – the one that promises fame and fortune if you fly off and see the galaxy." She opened one eye and looked at him with it. "Y'know, the ad that made you say that you were going to be a pilot – the best one the galaxy's ever seen."

"I did not say that."

"Yes you did, back when Rhody was-"

"Don't," Han said. He closed his eyes – Rhody. Rhody, who'd got into a fight with a dug, and lost badly. Rhody, who'd decided to prove himself by shoving a stormtrooper who was hassling a pair of selonians for "unconducive activity." Rhody, who'd been decked, dragged off, and had disappeared from their lives forever.

Different times – the time when Corellia learnt that the Republic was no more. That the Clone Wars had ended, an emperor was running the galaxy, and things were going to change. Times when he'd seen ads back then – when he'd declared to Qi'ra that he would be the best pilot the galaxy had ever seen. That he'd join the Imperial Academy, get a ship of his own, and come back to rescue her. Times that were half a decade ago, yet felt like another lifetime. A long, long, long time ago, in what might as well have been a far-away galaxy.

"We'll get out of here," Han said, as he lay back down on the ground. "Just not with them."

"Sure."

"We will."

"Hey, I said sure," Qi'ra said. "Just go to sleep."

Han tried. By the time he heard Qi'ra softly snoring, he was still trying. But the lights, the sounds, the whirlwind within him…he couldn't do it. Peering into the night sky, he searched for the stars, for any sign of them. From the Core to the Rim, any sign of light, any reminder that there were worlds beyond Corellia. That as a Corellian, he could still break the light speed barrier as a rite of passage – to see a big galaxy, and get a big homecoming. But search as he might, he could see none of them. The clouds were too thick, the smog too dense. The light pollution too much. And as always, the Star Destroyers in the sky above. Hanging there, as a reminder of the "security" the Empire brought. Of a changed world, and the loss of what had once been.

Not a great loss, Han reflected. But a loss just the same.

Finally, as Corell began to rise in the early morning sky, Han Solo found sleep. Found rest, however fleeting. And in sleep, he dreamt. Dreamt of the sky. Of space. Of a ship of his own. Of being free.

But the dream soon ended, and all that was left was reality.

Of lying on the surface of Corellia, and the feeling of being ground down into it.

Update (27/04/18): Made adjustments as per feedback.