“Noghri,” she supplied the word.
“-these Nogti have been taking potshots at you every chance they’ve had for a couple of months now. You remember Bpfassh and that mock-up of the Falcon they tried to sucker us into getting aboard? And the attack on Bimmisaari before that-they came within a hair of snatching us right out of the middle of a marketplace. If it hadn’t been for Luke and Chewie they’d have done it, too. These guys are serious, Leia. And now you tell me you want to fly out alone and visit their planet? You might as well turn yourself over to the Empire and save some time.”
“I wouldn’t be going if I thought that,” she insisted. “Khabarakh knows I’m Darth Vader’s daughter, and for whatever reason, that seems to be very important to them. Maybe I can use that leverage to turn them away from the Empire and onto our side. Anyway, I have to try.”
Han snorted. “What is this, some kind of crazy Jedi thing? Luke was always getting all noble and charging off into trouble, too.”
Leia reached over to lay her hand on his arm. “Han I know it’s a risk,” she said quietly. “But it may be the only chance we ever have of resolving this. The Noghri need help-Khabarakh admitted that. If I can give them that hell if I can convince them to come over to our side-that’ll mean one less enemy for us to have to deal with.” She hesitated. “And I can’t keep running forever.”
“What about the twins?”
He had the guilty satisfaction of seeing her wince. “I know,” she said, a shiver running through her as she reached her other hand up to hold her belly. “But what’s the alternative? To lock them away in a tower of the Palace somewhere with a ring of Wookiee guards around them? They’ll never have any chance of a normal life as long as the Noghri are trying to take them from us.”
Han gritted his teeth. So she knew. He hadn’t been sure before, but he was now. Leia knew that what the Empire had been after this whole time was her unborn children.
And knowing that, she still wanted to meet with the Empire’s agents.
For a long minute he gazed at her, his eyes searching the features of that face he’d grown to love so deeply over the years, his memory bringing up images of the past as he did so. The young determination in her face as, in the middle of a blazing firelight, she’d grabbed Luke’s blaster rifle away from him and shot them an escape route into the Death Star’s detention-level garbage chute. The sound of her voice in the middle of deadly danger at Jabba’s, helping him through the blindness and tremor and disorientation of hibernation sickness. The wiser, more mature determination visible through the pain in her eyes as, lying wounded outside the Endor bunker, she had nevertheless summoned the skill and control to coolly shoot two stormtroopers off Han’s back.
And he remembered, too, the wrenching realization he’d had at that same time: that no matter how much he tried, he would never be able to totally protect her from the dangers and risks of the universe. Because no matter how much he might love her-no matter how much he might give of himself to her-she could never be content with that alone. Her vision extended beyond him, just as it extended beyond herself, to all the beings of the galaxy.
And to take that away from her, whether by force or even by persuasion, would be to diminish her soul. And to take away part of what he’d fallen in love with in the first place.
“Can I at least go with you?” he asked quietly.
She reached up to caress his cheek, smiling her thanks through the sudden moisture in her eyes. “I promised I’d go alone,” she whispered, her voice tight with emotion. “Don’t worry, I’ll be all right.”
“Sure.” Abruptly, Han got to his feet. “Well, if you’re going, you’re going. Come on-I’ll help you get the Falcon prepped.”
“The Falcon?” she repeated. “But I thought you were going to New Cov.”
“I’ll take Lando’s ship,” he called over his shoulder as he strode to the door. “I’ve got to get it back to him, anyway.
“But-“
“No argument,” he cut her off. “If this Noghri of yours has something besides talking in mind, you’ll stand a better chance in the Falcon than you will in the Lady Luck.” He opened the door and stepped into the reception area.
And stopped short. Standing directly between him and the door, looking for all the world like a giant hairy thundercloud, Chewbacca was glowering at him. “What?” Han demanded.
The Wookiee’s comment was short, sharp, and very much to the point. “Well, I don’t much like it, either,” Han told him bluntly. “What do you want me to do, lock her up somewhere?”