He also knew that once they reached Traius, he’d have to get busy. Han was all ready to change identities as soon as they landed on Corellia.
But Bria would be wanted by the t’landa Til and the Hutts, too, and they knew her real name. The first thing Han planned to do as soon as he had credits available was to equip Bria with a fake ID.
Besides, he was trying to give her as much time as he could to heal.
He knew she still pined for the Exultation, though she no longer broke down in panic attacks or fits of sobbing. But several times he’d awakened in the night to find her gone.
When he searched for her, he usually found her in the control cabin, sitting in the copilot’s seat and staring out at the stars with such wistful longing in her eyes that Han felt a pang of jealousy.
Why can’t I be enough for her? Why isn’t our love enough? he wondered. He wanted to be enough for her, wanted her to be happy and content—but he could tell she wasn’t. It grieved Han, and it made him angry, too.
Once he tried to talk to her about it. “It’s been almost ten days!
Why do you miss it so much, still?” he demanded, hearing the edge of anger in his voice and unable to stop it. “Tell me, Bria. Make me understand!”
She gazed at him, her bluegreen eyes very sad, almost haunted. “I can’t explain it, Han. It’s like they took a piece of me … a piece of my spirit. It’s not just missing the Exultation itself, the pleasure, the warmth. I’m getting past that. It’s the “she faltered, then fell silent.
He was sitting beside her in the pilot’s seat, and he reached out and grasped her hands. They were cold, and he warmed them gently in his.
“Go . on …” he said quietly. “I’m here. I’m listening” “Both Mrrov and Teroenza were wrong when they said only weakminded people fall into the trap of the Ylesian religion,” Bria said slowly, selecting her words with care. “Oh, some of the pilgrims may be discontented people who’ve never been successful in life and are looking for a way to escape responsibility. But not most of them. I got to know a lot of them, Han.”
“Yeah, you did,” he encouraged.
“Most of the Ylesian pilgrims were … idealists, I guess you’d say.
People who believed that there was something better, some meaning to life.
They went looking in the wrong places, they got fooled into believing the priest’s bilge about the One and the All … but that doesn’t make their goal—their aspiration—of believing in a higher power stupid.”
He nodded, and saw tears gather in her beautiful eyes and spill over.
Concerned, he burst out, “Bria … sweetheart. Don’t tear yourself up like this! Just because this religion turned out to be a hokey fake doesn’t mean life isn’t worth living. We have each other. We’re gonna have money.
We’ll be fine.”
“Han…” Gently she touched his cheek, caressed his face, and gave him a loving smile. “You’re the ultimate pragmatist, aren’t you? If you’re not getting shot at or caught in a tractor beam, life is great, right?”
He shook his head, a little stung. “I’m a simple guy, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t understand what you’re talking about, Bria. It would be nice if there were some higher power, maybe. I just don’t happen to believe there is. And it hurts me to see you hurt.”
“Han… don’t you realize that the only person you can really take care of and protect is you—” “And you, Bria,” he broke in. “Don’t forget that for one second. We’re a team, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” she said. “We are a team. But it’s hard for me to be content with not being shot at or having money. I want more.”
“You want some reason for everything that happens. You want to work to make your ideals real,” he said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “But I understand that you don’t let questions like the meaning of life torment you. You’re probably the smart one, Han.”
“Smart?” Han frowned. “I ain’t dumb, I know that, but I never pretended to be a philosopher or something.”
“Right. You don’t go around tearing yourself up over injustice and corruption and wrongdoing. You accept things as they are, and you figure out ways around them. Right?”
He thought about that, and finally nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Maybe, a long time ago, I had some ideas about how I could become someone who righted wrongs and kicked the bad guys’ butts, but”—he sighed and gave her a wry smile—”I think I got those ideas beaten out of me by the time I was just a little kid. When you lived under Garris Shrike’s rule, you tumbled pretty quick to the fact that nobody was gonna look out for you except yourself—and that sticking your neck out for anyone else was a good way to get it whacked off.”