Between the Lines

by suezahn

Disclaimer: All characters depicted herein are the property of Lucasfilm, Disney, etc. My only profit is in the form of readers' feedback. Please be generous!

Note: This story was originally written in 1995 and has now be revised and updated for consistency with the rest of the Kismet series. Please note that the OC name Kristin Aldritch = Keris Aldric now. I decided the old name was too "Earthy." A very special thank-you to my lovely proofreaders: Erin Darroch and Marjorie Joyce. The original story was awarded STAR aWARdS Best Long Story 1995.

Chapter 1

Love is a warfare: sluggards be dismissed,
No faint-heart 'neath this banner may enlist.
Storms, darkness, anguish, weary trails you'll find
On love's campaign, and toil of every kind.
—Ovid, The Love Poems

Ice crunched loudly as the landing pads of the Millennium Falcon settled onto the frozen cave floor of the Rebel Alliance's new base on Hoth.

Han Solo killed the retros before casting a dubious gaze out the cockpit canopy at the carved-out ice cave the engineers had fashioned from what could best be described as a pile of rock and snow. After a silent moment, he turned to frown at his hairy copilot. "What have we gotten ourselves into this time?"

Chewbacca did a double-take before returning his attention to shutting down the ship's systems. «We?»

Solo stared out the viewport again as morbid curiosity made him study the ceiling of the ice cave. "Do I need to remind you that sticking around long enough to help them relocate to this snowball was your brilliant idea?"

The Wookiee shrugged. «It was my suggestion but your decision.»

Getting to his feet, Solo shook his head in exasperation. It was no use arguing with the Wookiee, especially when he was right.

Resting his hands on the Falcon's forward control dash, Han gave their new base a closer look. Thermal-suited flight techs and other military personnel hustled throughout the base, weaving and working between the assortment of X-wings and terrain speeders parked in double rows.

Compared to Serricci, the last base they'd been forced to abandon, this place was positively claustrophobic. It was no wonder this particular cell of the Alliance had been compelled to divide its personnel between two new smaller bases, the one here on Hoth and another on Sullust. There simply wasn't enough room at either base to house the entire complement of fighters and transport craft. As a result, Hoth would be understaffed, at least until more trained personnel could arrive.

Finished with his portion of shutdown duties, Chewbacca seemed to realize that his friend was actively lingering. Unable to resist, the Wookiee settled back into his customized bucket seat and asked with a nonchalant hoot, «What, no royal welcoming committee?»

Han turned around, his frown deepening in annoyance at seeing his partner's pseudo-innocence. Chewbacca, as usual, was too perceptive for Han's peace of mind. "Wise ass."

«You've barely seen her in the seventeen days since Ord Mantell. Perhaps she's warmed up again since then.»

At hearing that now-hated name, Solo reached above his head to switch off all the remaining systems save climate control and lighting. "On this ice ball?" he muttered as he passed between their seats on his way toward the cockpit exit. "I wouldn't bet on it."

"Frustrated" was too mild a description for how Han felt when he thought about Princess Leia Organa, sacred icon of the Alliance and all-around propaganda minister. The fact was she'd actually grown quite warm toward him, until all chaos had broken loose during their recent "simple" mission to Ord Mantell. It was then that he'd come to the painful realization that he really had no choice but to leave, before either she or the Rebellion was endangered any more. He still hadn't told her in as many words, but he'd made the rather uncharacteristic chivalrous decision at that time to push her away rather than take advantage of their budding romance. Thus, he'd rebuffed her during their return trip to Serricci. As could be expected, she didn't seem to be taking the abrupt reversal well.

She'd retreated to a cool indifference when not outright hostile, something Han found more maddening than her previous insistence that theirs was a business relationship only. Most of this was of his own doing, he admitted. As if that wasn't enough, his willpower was proving weak; the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, and yet he couldn't resist trying to draw some sort of emotional confession out of her. It was as if some perverse part of him needed to hear it, even if it would do neither of them any good.

He still hadn't gotten a chance to confront her about this. They'd returned from the mission just in time to join in the forced evacuation of Serricci. Since then, Han and Chewbacca had been busy shuttling back and forth between Hoth and the other newly established base on Sullust. Now feeling as if he and Leia were back to square one again, Han knew on a rational level that he should just give up and leave her be. After all, there was little chance he would survive a confrontation with Jabba the Hutt, and yet he kept wishing for a different outcome and couldn't help but pursue her. With his constant flip-flopping, it was no wonder why she was furious.

A short time later, after donning an under-layer of thermal clothing and a dark blue flight jacket, Han stepped out of the Falcon and into the sheltered yet chilly air of the base. Before he'd reached the bottom of the ramp, however, a pungent aroma having nothing to do with spaceship mechanics or base engineering assaulted his nose. Drawing up short on the incline, Solo dared another cautious whiff, then grimaced and glanced around with renewed curiosity. Due to its sheer unpleasantness, he judged the rank odor organic waste by-product. "Great," he grumbled. He could just imagine the latest Alliance recruiting slogan: "Join the Rebellion and discover all the exotic smells of the galaxy."

"Captain Solo, sir."

As the Rebel soldier neared, Han recognized the man from their previous base. He stepped down onto the white icy flightdeck. "Hello, Major."

"It's good to see you made it here in one piece, sir," Major Derlin said.

"No thanks to the Empire. What in Kessel's Hell is that disgusting smell?"

"Oh." Derlin offered a little grin, his white teeth flashing beneath his thick blond mustache. "That's High Command's solution to the problems we're having adjusting the speeders to the extreme cold outside."

"What's their plan? Baffle Imperial sensors with that wafting odor?" Solo sarcastically ventured.

Familiar with the spacer's brand of humor, Derlin chuckled. "It couldn't hurt. Actually, someone suggested using live mounts that were naturally accustomed to this type of climate."

"Last time I heard, this place was lifeless."

"Far as we know, sir, it is. The Tauntauns—that's what they're called—were shipped in from some other backwater planet in the Rim. The temperature drop here at nightfall is still too severe, even for these animals, but at least we've got a way to run base surveillance during the day."

"Tauntauns, huh?"

"Yes, sir." Derlin hesitated, then offered a reassuring smile. "You'll get used to the smell. Sooner or later."

Solo did not look convinced.

"It could be worse, sir. You could've been the lucky freighter to haul them here in the first place. From what I understand, Captain Shaelt's main hold still reeks of them."

The Corellian sighed at being forced to accept yet another inconvenience in the name of freedom fighting. "I'll keep that in mind." He glanced around, then made a vague gesture to their surroundings. "Which way to the Command Center?"

Derlin turned and pointed. "Follow that row of flight-deck lights to the corridor hatch at the end, take a right and then your second left. You can't miss it."

"Thanks." Solo waved a quick salute and headed according to the directions.