"I think I must have misheard you," Han said deliberately, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. "I think what you meant to do was ask my wife if she was hurt."

Morena opened her mouth to respond and then thought better of her comment when she saw Han's dark look. "Of course. Are you all right?"

Leia set the pot down on a nearby cupboard and then leaned over to shut off the burner under the still sputtering pan. "I'm okay," she told them both, rubbing her hands together to restore circulation.

"There, good," Morena said. She looked down at the prone figure of the chef, who was starting to moan as he regained consciousness. "I apologize for this. He has been under quite a bit of stress lately."

"You're excusing him?" Han asked incredulously. "He attacked her! He could have killed her!" He brandished the heavy fireplace poker. "You call this stress? Is this a joke to you?"

"Of course not. The safety of Imperial staff is our highest priority." Leia nudged Han to keep him from smirking at Morena's comment.

"Good." Han looked down at his fallen foe, who still had his eyes screwed shut but was shifting his jaw back and forth to check for breaks. Deep purple bruises were blooming on the side of Skiren's head. "Then why don't you call some security and get him out of here before I have to finish the job of keeping your Imperial staff safe."

Morena sighed. "Then, as I just asked, who is going to cook? We can hardly let the council go hungry because of a little disagreement in the kitchen."

Han began to comment on her characterization of the situation when Leia interrupted. "He'll cook. Tocal is an excellent chef. He's even had some classical training." Morena looked at her skeptically. "Really."

Ignoring Han's questioning glance, Leia continued. "I apologize for the disturbance, but I promise the council won't notice a thing."

"All right then. I guess we don't have much choice for the moment." She pulled out a comlink. "I need a two security officers to the kitchen, please."

"I'll get cleaned up," Leia said hastily, preferring to avoid even incidental contact with the palace security staff.

"I'll help her," Han added, putting his arm around Leia and guiding her towards a rear door. "Um, you guys starting setting up some plates," he said to Elera and her fellow kitchen staff. He nodded to Elera, "And thanks for the quick thinking."

Leia led Han into a small washroom off the kitchen and pulled it shut behind them, checking the lock twice before collapsing against the wall with a deep sigh. "Thanks for the rescue, flyboy. That was a close one."

"Wow, that must have really gotten to you," Han said, grabbing a handful of toweling and turning on the faucet to soak it. "I thought I'd get a lecture on how you didn't need help. That's how it usually goes."

"Well, don't look a gift thranta in the mouth." She let him dab at the tender spot on her forehead. "And speaking of gifts, this situation really couldn't have worked out any better."

Han shook his head. "That's what I love about you, sweetheart. Bleeding out your ears and all you can think about is the next step in your scheme."

"I'm not bleeding out my ears!"

Han gently pressed a bit of towel to her right ear and then showed her the telltale pink stain. "Okay, maybe a little. But it was still worth it."

They waited until they heard the sound of Chef Skiren being hustled out of the kitchen and then reemerged. Elera came over and gave Leia a careful hug.

"I'm so glad you came," Elera said to Han, "I was worried when I was running to get you that you wouldn't after that fight you had."

"You knew about the fight?" Han caught himself. "Of course you did. Gossip spreads worse that Tralusian flu around here." He put an arm around Leia. "I would never abandon my best girl. Never."

Leia smiled and gave him a quick kiss. "Me neither. Now let's get back to work. We have a big job ahead of us."

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"You really are a good chef," Leia said admiringly, plucking a chunk of leftover grilled bolabird from the prep station and popping it into her mouth. "The council loved it. Cleaned their plates like good little evil dictators."

Han took a swig of Corellian ale that he'd swiped from the refrigeration unit and wiped his mouth. "You're the one who was bragging about my skills to Morena."

"I knew you could cook decent food in a ship's galley. That doesn't always translate to gourmet cuisine."

"I never do anything halfway, sister. You know that."

"You have a point." She snapped a dishtowel playfully at his rear. "Now let's finish up. I'm tired."

They stood side by side in comfortable silence in the empty kitchen, washing the last of the dishes from that night's meal. Leia tried to avoid looking at Han's bruised knuckles as she worked to ignore the aching pain in her back and sides. She wasn't looking forward to seeing yet more bruises, but at this point, she mused, she should be used to it.

"Tomorrow," Han said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

"What?"

"If we're going to do this, we can't wait any longer. If you're really committed it needs to happen tomorrow while we have our opportunity."

Leia held up a hand. "We don't have the supplies yet."

"We don't need to bother with the wine anymore. With Skiren out of the picture…"

"I guess that's true."

"Glass cleaner. That's what you said you needed. I can get glass cleaner if you can mix it up." He looked down at her. "You're sure you know the formula."

Leia nodded. "We just need to mix it into the food. Can you make soup tomorrow, or stew? Soup would be best. Something liquid."

"I can do that." Han grinned. "I'll make a soup they won't forget for the rest of their lives."

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"Even if it is a trap, that doesn't mean it's not worth pursuing the opportunity to take out the Council," Dodonna said to the assembled High Command. "Skywalker knows now how they plan to trap us, so we can work around it. Beat them at their own game."

"The opportunity is truly tempting," Mon Mothma admitted. "A second blow to the Imperial leadership in such a short time would be devastating to both their capabilities and their morale."

"I'm not convinced we have the capabilities, though, with all due respect," Rieekan interjected, "Preplanning and then executing a coordinated strategy without local communications is no small task. And we are barely starting to recover from our losses at Endor. Many of our top commanders are dead!"

Mon Mothma thought for a moment. "Ask Luke Skywalker to join us. I have some questions about the intelligence he brings us."

A few minutes later, Luke came into the not-quite-big enough High Command meeting room, escorted by a clearly starstruck young private. The attendant left still gawking at the Jedi, pulling the door closed behind him. Mothma gestured for Luke to sit.

Sensing the tense mood around him, Luke sat expectantly but waited to be addressed before speaking. Finally Dodonna asked him directly, "Why do you think we should not take this opportunity to behead the Empire?"

"I know my motives do not seem clear," Luke started, "But I assure you, on the memory of all my friends who were lost to this cause, my only interest is preserving our ability to fight another day."

"That's not what I asked you," pressed Dodonna. "You really believe this trap, now that we know the details, could still prove fatal to the Alliance?"

"I don't know for certain," Luke admitted. "The future isn't set in stone. But I do know the Empire is planning for this opportunity to destroy us, and they know the system well. We do not. And…"

"And what?" This time it was Rieekan who spoke up.

"There's something else….I don't know what it is. But the Force is warning me."

"The Force." Luke couldn't tell if Mothma's tone was challenging or reverent. "Are you sure it isn't some other interest driving you?"

"I already told you my motivation," Luke said, growing frustrated. "I'm only trying to be completely transparent."

"Perhaps then," she said more gently, "You should consider what the Force is trying to tell you and let us know when you have more clarity." Luke could tell he was being dismissed. Standing up, he walked out of the room trying hard not to seem like a petulant child. With them, he mused, it could be a challenge sometimes.

"Well?" Chewie demanded. The Wookiee was waiting outside the room for him, ignoring the young guard who was repeatedly (but politely) asking him to move along.

"No decision," Luke said, taking care to be oblique. The last thing he needed was High Command accusing him of leaking state secrets. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Why?"

"As I was talking to them, I could feel….the Force was trying to tell me something. The whole situation just feels wrong. I just don't know why."

Chewie patted him reassuringly on the shoulder, but his face stayed grim. "I hope you can figure it out soon, Cub."

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Apparently even a pending assassination of the remaining heads of the Imperial government couldn't keep Han Solo awake, Leia grumbled to herself as she flipped onto her other side, trying to relieve the pressure on her bruised side. She yanked her pillow out from under Han, whose head had migrated over during the course of the night, and shoved it under her back to cushion her ribs. She held her breath for a moment and then let it out consciously, counting to four as she exhaled in attempt to calm her whirling mind. It didn't work. So many things could go wrong.

The poison could fail.

They could be recognized.

They might be captured before they could escape.

Han might be captured.

Han might be killed.

Han might be….

"Leia!"

Her breath caught in her throat as she turned her head towards the all to familiar voice.

"Daughter."

"I realize you are a figment of my disturbed imagination, but I would appreciate it if you would not call me that."

Anakin's ghostly figure dropped his head. "Leia, you must reconsider this plan. The consequences are not what you are anticipating."

"I beg your pardon?" Leia's jaw dropped.

"You cannot kill the council."

Leia sat up, crossing her arms. "Oh, big surprise. The ghost of Darth Vader doesn't want me to get rid of the Imperial Council. What, are you worried there won't be anyone left to worship you as a demigod?"

"Leia, you must hear me. If the council is gone, far worse leaders will fill its place. You must return to the Rebellion and find your brother. Together you and he can find the right path to end this war."

"I know the right path to end this war, and it's getting rid of those who are waging it."

"Daughter, listen to yourself. This is not about peace. This is about recompense for all you have lost."

"So what if it is?" Leia snapped, "It is still in service to the Alliance. It's the least this universe owes me. You of all beings should know that."

"Leia, I beg you. Reconsider."

"No." She jammed her eyes shut and threw herself down next to Han, cuddling into the solid warmth of his body. After a long moment, Anakin disappeared.

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Private spaces were few and far between on Home One. Luke popped into three different rooms looking for a spot to meditate but was kicked out by various squatters—a pair of procurement specialists sick of the noise in the main communications center, a lieutenant commander of a half-destroyed ship trying to work out placement for her crew, and, in a utility closet, two young Twi'lek recruits in a state of undress that left Luke stammering as he slammed the door while backing away. Finally he made his way back to the hangar, hoping to beg access to the Falcon.

As luck would have it, the search crew that was checking the Falcon for bugs had finished and left the freighter empty and unlocked. Luke ducked aboard, shutting the boarding ramp behind him and heading for one of the bunk rooms. The air, stagnant from days of misuse, held the memory of engine grease and floral soap and for a moment he stood there, longing for his sister so badly that it left a physical pain in his gut. "Leia," he whispered as he settled himself cross legged on the floor, "where are you?"

It took him a few minutes to quiet his thoughts and reach into the Force. Finally the familiar warmth surrounded him like a gently flowing river. Even here in space, life flourished around him, feeding the power that he touched with his soul. Each breath relaxed his body until the line between his corporeal being and his presence in the Force blurred and disappeared.

"My son."

Luke almost fell out of his meditation. A man stood before him, glowing like Obi Wan always appeared, but his face was unfamiliar. At the same time, Luke knew him intimately. "Father."

"Oh, Luke." For moment, Anakin seemed as though he might kneel to try to cup Luke's hand in his face. But he held back. "I have little time here, my son. But I must warn you. You must stop your sister. She is about to take foolhardy action that could destroy you both."

"Leia?" Luke gasped, "Father, where is she? Is she all right? Have you seen her?"

"She is at the former Emperor's palace, plotting to destroy the Imperial Council there," Anakin told him, "But she is only thinking of the present. You must consider who will fill the vacuum when they are gone, and what that will mean for your Alliance."

"She's on Coruscant, you mean?" Luke asked desperately. "Has she been captured? What do you mean she's plotting to destroy the Council there?"

Anakin opened his mouth as though to speak, but then only looked sadly at Luke as he faded out of sight.

"Leia," Luke said again, simultaneously elated and terrified for his sister. Then he considered his father's words. "If she's trying to destroy the Council on Coruscant," he said to himself, "Then…" He yanked out his comlink, frantically punching in Rieekan's number. "It is a trap!"